Literati Ltd
by lost0and0found
Summary: Rory Gilmore has been running her grandfather's publishing house for a year now. She is surprised when she gets a phone call by her mother's ex-boyfriend Luke who asks her a certain favor. Starting from there, her life starts to alter rapidly. AU
1. Meet Mr Mariano

Disclaimer: I own nothing, neither the characters, nor the setting... I'm poor, poor, _poor_ (and that's easy enough to prove...)

A/N: _Special regards to **LitLove** for igniting a spark that has been burning for a while before I got to writing this fic. Remember what I once told you, Lit? I didn't make this story a fanfic of yours, but yours is kind of there, too, as an inspiration...  
_

_This fic is the obvious result of too many Suits episodes and my Gilmore Girls addiction record... A little overused story setting, but I hope it makes a difference:_

**Summary**: Rory Gilmore has been running her grandfather's publishing house for a year now. She is surprised when she gets a phone call by her mother's ex-boyfriend Luke who asks her a certain favor. Starting from there, her life starts to alter rapidly. AU

**PLEASE READ FIRST: **

_Background_ _Details:_ **_After her mother _**_Lorelai _**_died in a car accident, seventeen year old _**_Rory Gilmore_**_ moved to live with her grandparents in Hartford. She never came back to her home town, the memories of her mom too painful to relive, so she never met Luke's rebellious nephew _**_Jess Mariano_**_ who was sent by his mother to spend his last high school year with his uncle, away from New York and away from trouble. After Rory graduated Harvard Kennedy, she took on her grandfather's publishing firm. After Jess graduated Stars Hollow High, he worked for a couple of years before he saved up enough money to major literature in the University of Pennsylvania._**

_So, here's my attempt to explore a more screwed up Rory and her interaction with a more screwed on Jess, who meet each other for the first time in somewhat different circumstances... exactly how different, I'm yet to discover._

_**As always, hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

'Luke Danes, Line Two,' the secretary's voice sounded from the speaker.

Rory Gilmore's wrist froze above the papers, her finely manicured fingers suddenly numb around the _Dupont_ fountain pen.

Luke Danes. Her mom's ex-boyfriend-almost-fiancee...

_'I can't speak, Rory. I don't even know how to introduce myself... She had just proposed to me the night before, before... What do I say? I don't even know how to begin...'_

_ 'You say you're Luke. The man who loved my mom and who she loved back.'_

_A beat. The church was full of people but quiet nevertheless. Awfully quiet. Another beat.  
_

_'Okay, then. Let's do this.'  
_

_'Luke?'  
_

_'Yeah?'  
_

_'If... if it will make you feel better, you can always pretend that we're alone. Just you, me and... and her.'  
_

She hadn't seen him since the funeral. Barely exchanged a word after the ceremony. There was nothing to be said, the most important person for both of them ripped out of their lives, a huge gap split open right before them. A seventeen year old teenage schoolgirl and a forty something lonely diner owner.

'He said you'd know who he is,' the secretary's voice brought her back to reality, 'and he would only be a minute... Rory? Should I get rid of him?'

'No! No, Stace, put him through.'

* * *

'Ant Floor, and don't bring it back without the report,' Rory said, handing the employee a manuscript, accompanying her words with a meaningful lift of her eyebrows.

'Yes, Miss Gilmore,' the employee said quickly, taking the file and hurrying out of the office before Miss Gilmore had changed her mind.

'Rory Gilmore, you never cease to impress me,' the young blonde smiled from across her desk and swirled in his chair from side to side. 'You still call interns Ant Floor?' he rose his eyebrows at her, amused.

'Good traditions deserve to be kept alive,' Rory shrugged with feigned innocence.

'Even if that means slavery?' the blonde let out a cheerful laugh while his eyes skimmed her outlines with a playful glitter.

'Even if so,' Rory nodded, her blue eyes reflecting the glimmer in his.

Logan Huntzberger bit his lower lip and kept it between his teeth before giving her an appreciative nod.

'Gilmore genes,' he concluded, 'there's always been this flair of royalty around you, my friend,' he added and for a moment his eyes turned warmer, catching her a little off guard.

'Coming from the lips of a Huntzberger, that must be quite rare to hear,' Rory raised her brows, her lips forming a beautiful rosé line. That was what her business smile looked like - a beautiful pink line, slightly curved at the edges - the intelligent, restrained way to show approval.

'We Huntzbergers are huntsmen, Rory. Never been royal figures... and maybe that's why we're always trying to prove something,' Logan added somewhat sadly, pensively.

Rory's forehead furrowed at the change of tone. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers intertwined, and she leaned forward, her features expressing concern.

'Logan,' she began gently, friendly. She wasn't flirting anymore and neither was he. 'Are you trying to tell me something?' she asked, deep blue fixing brown in an eye lock.

After a beat of silence with neither of them flinching, Logan shook his head and smiled, averting his look.

'You're a smart woman, Rory Gilmore,' he said softly, almost affectionately, after which he took hold of the armrests of the white leather chair and stood up. 'And it's always a pleasure to see you.'

Before walking out, he gave her slight a nod, lifting his hand to touch his temple with the fingertips of his point and middle finger, a gesture of appreciation he often used during the two years of their acquaintance.

'Bye, Ace.'

Rory Gilmore swiveled in her chair. Her lips curved up in a pensive smile, one she had not for display on a business meeting, but mostly when she was sitting by herself, pondering over an important decision.

* * *

'Cubicle floor, your new home. Also known as Ant Floor, as the Olympus calls it,' the chocolate skinned man continued, throwing an occasional look at his new colleague to check if he was following. He was.

'Olympus?' Jess rose an eyebrow, pretty unimpressed.

'Gods' Floor? Wonderland? Cloud nine? Land of Ozz?' the young man continued, a bit disappointed with the lack of enthusiasm in his new colleague's voice. This Jess guy was not quite interested in office mythology, a fact which made him look a bit nerdy in itself. Where did he fall from, again? Pennsylvania. _Rright_.

'The Killmore Empire?' he tried again.

Jess' lack of interest killed every last trace of hope that this could turn into a proper ride-full-speed-over-the-gossip-train-tour. 'Oh, come _on_, man, work with me here, can't you at least _pretend_ that you're following this?'

'Hey, Chris, filling the new guy in?' a freckle faced redhead cut in, joining their step, throwing a questioning look at his colleague behind Jess' back.

Chris mouthed _'spoilsport'_, nodding towards Jess' nape, and shook his head sadly.

'Oh,' the redhead chuckled, giving Jess a wink, 'Chris can be _such_ a drama queen. Matt, by the way,' he offered his hand with a broad smile, revealing two dimples that made him look even younger.

'Jess,' Jess shook the offered hand hesitantly, asking himself if everyone in this office was clean freak.

'He told you about Her Majesty's sex life already?' Matt asked knowingly, his pale blue eyes shining with amusement.

And _that_ would be Queen Gilmore's sex life. His currently-boss-was-almost-cousin. _Huh_.

'He was just getting there, I presume,' Jess concluded sarcastically, winning a huff from Chris and a chuckle from Matt.

'He's getting on your nerves,' Matt whispered over to Chris behind Jess' back. 'I already like him!'

* * *

'He was trying to warn me,' Rory mused, putting an arm under her head, while absentmindedly stroking the silken texture of the hotel bed sheet with the other. 'He never comes to my office _just_ to see me.'

'Come on, the bastard's dying to lay his hands on you and your grandfather's firm,' the young man with closely cropped hair who was lying beside her said, stretching in a way that made the well outlined muscles of his arms and bare torso even more visible. 'He's only finding _excuses_ to come to your office _in order_ to _just see_ you.'

Rory darted a slightly annoyed sideways glance at him, knowing he was right. Anyway, when she caught sight of his profile, she couldn't hold back a playful smile and it sneaked its way up her lips, accompanied by the bubbling feeling of lust that started low in her stomach and spread throughout her body.

She rolled to her side so that she was facing him and moved one hand to rest her palm against the taut skin of his stomach.

'He's not as bad as his father,' she contemplated, her fingertips drawing circles over his abs, perfectly manicured nails purposefully grazing the skin. 'Logan is just... _confused._'

She finished the sentence with a shrug, not really sure this was the best word to describe Logan Huntzberger. He was the victim of a tyrant dominating father, that was obvious enough for everyone to see. However, there was something genuinely good-natured about Logan that initially differed him from Mitchum and Rory could see an inner struggle in him, led with varying score by Logan himself and his father.

'Haven't you learned by now not to talk about other men in bed, Mary?' the man asked, making a sudden move so that his hands sneaked under her and she ended up on top of him.

'Aargh, _don't_ call me that,' Rory growled, her voice hesitating between amusement and disgust.

'But I like calling you that,' he smiled lazily, his lips lifting to reveal two rows of white teeth.

'It's a bit inappropriate,' she bit a lip, 'given the essence of our meetings,' she leaned to whisper in his ear, lips curving into a playful smile.

Two strong hands closed tighter round the small of her back and he rolled them over, making her let out a surprised whimper.

'I'm okay with inappropriate,' he said in a low, gruff voice that made her skin tingle with anticipation.

* * *

Rory Gilmore liked hotels. They meant freedom. You could leave all you don't need outside, then lock a door and forget ... if you wanted to. You could choose what to let in and what to leave out. If only people's lives had more doors like those hotel ones... It was just that a Gilmore always liked a chance to choose.

'Bye, Havier,' Rory smiled as she left the key on the reception counter.

The elderly doorman smiled back and touched his uniform cap as he watched the dazzling brunette leave, the sound of her heels resonating over the marble floor of the foyer on her way out.

* * *

'Someone got lucky last night,' Chris prolonged the words in a murmur as his eyes observed the tall brunette through the glass windows. He was sitting on his desk, his neck was really thin in an attempt to get a better view of what was happening in the corridor.

Jess threw an occasional look through the glass office windows to see a tall brunette in a white suit shaking hands with a short Asian-looking man who was also wearing a suit that could probably pay his two months rental.

'Aww, _didn't I_ tell you,' Matt leaned over to Chris from his cubicle, rubbing his chin with his thumb and point finger, '_Soldier boy_ just arrived last night, _hurrying_ to meet his _Queen_,' he finished in a low, suggestive voice.

Jess' eyes paused on the same word for a couple of seconds but decided against asking for further details. Last thing he needed was a refill on his boss' sex life. He continued reading the manuscript, making another note in the margin.

'His name is Tristan Dugrey,' Matt explained occasionally as he pushed his swivel chair towards Jess' desk. 'He's a _marine_,' he added conspiratorially.

Either Matt was referring to some other guy, or the short Asian was really giving a very wrong impression. Jess' eyes continued their travel over the script (this was a _really_ poor attempt for writing real-time fiction, anyway) and he made another note in the margin.

'Every time she walks round the office, _greeting_ people, she got lucky,' Matt continued, 'Which means Pretty boy got back from a mission and stopped by to say _hello,_' Matt stressed the last word meaningfully, making his voice emphatically low.

Jeez, this story was written in an impossibly poor style. If you needed something _that_ true to real life, you should've written a diary. And there he had caught a glimpse of a story, at least at the very beginning, but, as with many other stories, this author's initially good idea had dissolved into the next chapters and washed away like watercolor to become a meaningless blur.

'You really don't care about gossip, do you?' Matt asked in a couple of minutes, his eyes still fixing Jess. In contrast to Chris' accusation, Matt's voice bore more respect for the fact that their new colleague kept himself out of small talk.

'Nope,' Jess affirmed without tearing his eyes off the page. 'I really don't.'

'Well,' Matt tapped Jess' shoulder, 'if you stick around here long enough, you're about to,' he finished wisely and with that he pushed his swivel back to his cubicle.

* * *

'Who wrote Kate McCarty's review?' Rory asked evenly after she put the phone down, turning the inner line speaker on. Employees knew what this tone meant. She was furious.

'Eh, someone from Ant floor,' Stacy said hesitantly, switching on speaker, reaching for her notes, trying to find the name.

Rory was silent at the other end, clearly waiting for her secretary to deliver the name.

'I can check,' Stacy suggested helpfully, winning some time while going through her scribbles frantically.

'Do.'

Furious.

Stacy turned another page and then clicked her fingers in an _'Aha!'_ gesture.

'Jess Mariano,' she delivered effortlessly. She knew it was _that_ guy.

Stacy Wills didn't know many people from Ant floor. Not personally. She could recognize a couple of faces, connect them to a name maybe, but there were only few individuals there that she found interesting enough to acknowledge. This Jess Mariano could be one of them.

This morning, when he came in and left a bunch of manuscripts on her desk, she thought he must be making a joke. No one delivered their reviews personally. Not since the company had grown to a level where it was placed over six floors of a skyscraper in the center of New York. There were a couple of employees that took care of those deliveries, organized into a neat system to keep it all in order. But this guy was there this morning, hair sticking in all possible directions, his eyes a soft brown shade that somehow contrasted to the sharpness of his look. His features were rather nice, but they bore a sulky (maybe bored?) expression.

There was some contradiction in him which, according to Stacy, made him interesting. At least more interesting than the rest. She was a _human reader_, as she liked to say for herself, and she couldn't read him out at first sight, which was _something_.

And then he asked where the Gilmore library was.

_That's suicidal, not to mention irresponsible and stupid.  
_

_Why, thank you.  
_

_On a Wednesday morning, on a rather busy week, you show up here uninvited, newly employed, and you ask where the boss' library is._

_Yup._

_You don't have anything better to do?  
_

_Nope.  
_

_What about those little cute bunches of paper called manuscripts, waiting for you to be read and reviewed down there on Ant floor, about three hundred pages each?  
_

_They're done.  
_

_Really.  
_

_Yeah. Really.  
_

_Oh, don't give me that eyebrow act.  
_

_I'm not.  
_

_You so are.  
_

_Whatever.  
_

_Wait, you really _are_ finished with those scripts?  
_

_Didn't I say that already? Twice?  
_

_I think I'll have to change your nickname from James Dean to Socially Awkward Nerd.  
_

_Huh.  
_

_Yeah, huh. Double huh if the boss catches you in her library, positioned straight then two times right before you take the corridor to the left... Who could tell smirking would suit you like that? Come on, hit the road before she's back.  
_

_Thanks, Stace.  
_

_Welcome, Nerd.  
_

'I never thought you were a fan of McCarty,' Stacy said, leaning against the door of Rory's office, a notepad in hand.

'I'm not,' Rory looked up from behind her desk.

Stacy quirked an eyebrow and crossed her hands, waiting for Rory to elaborate.

'I always thought her idea was plausible at the beginning but then got lost in the rest. If I needed something so everyday, I'd read someone's diary,' Rory shrugged and went back to reading the papers on her desk.

'Interesting,' Stacy smiled thoughtfully.

'What is,' Rory asked absentmindedly, reaching for the phone.

'That's exactly what this Mariano guy said,' Stacy said with a flair of mysteriousness and disappeared from the door before she could get a reaction, hoping that would create some dramatic effect.

_'Really'_, Rory said to herself once the door was closed.

Her clothes were designed to make a statement. Something like a shiny label to mark her as wealthy, powerful and prosperous. She was reading some papers spread over her desk, lips pursed in a tight line. Another bossy uptight bitch, Jess decided.

'Take a seat, Mr. Mariano.'

_Bossy, checked._ A smirk started to pull at his lips' ends.

She looked up when he sat on the leather chair before her desk. His smirk stilled. You didn't get to see this kind of blue often. He had never. Or maybe he had. Once. On a picture. In Luke's. She had her mother's blue.

'You wrote the review for Kate McCarthy,' Rory informed him coldly. Yeah, as if he didn't know that.

His eyebrows flew up, his trademark smirk resuming its way up his lips. Okay, then, maybe blue was misleading. She _was_ an uptight bitch.

'You're gonna write an apology.'

'Huh?'

_Cocky and defensive._

'To Miss McCarthy,' she smiled tightly.

He rested back in the chair and crossed his arms before his chest.

'And I would wanna do that because?'

Rory's eyebrow quirked up and she laced her fingers together over the desk.

_Really? Challenging the boss? Rebel without a cause, you don't know who you're talking to._

'Because you were rude and judgmental,' she explained brightly.

'I was?'

'Yes, you were.'

'No, I wasn't.'

_No, of course you weren't, poor stubborn misunderstood bad boy._

'Look,' Rory paused to check his name on her note pad, '_Jess_. I see you must be new to this business,' she began in a softer, sweeter voice, one she might as well use when talking to a retard.

'But there is something important about reviewers and they must learn it from their first day here, or else it would be their last,' she continued, her voice velvety.

Jess' hands rested on the armrests and he bobbed his head to the side, ready to hear what that extremely wise god's commandment would be. He expected something like _'I'm the boss and I'm always right'_ or _'You have to worship my taste in clothes no matter what I've put on'_.

But then Rory took a breath and her demeanor changed completely, her features shifting into a stern expression, her words getting a sharp edge. 'We never, _ever_ offend our writers,' she said slowly, seriously, making the temperature in the room considerably lower.

_Huh, who would tell that blue would cut like ice._

'I did not...' he started slowly, trying to stress the words, but she wouldn't let him finish.

'Maybe not purposefully, but you did. You offended her,' she explained calmly, blue turning a warmer shade for just a second. 'For a person who works in a publishing company, I'm sure you have a vocabulary wide enough to handle this. Thank you, Mr Mariano,' she finished in a composed but firm business tone, her _closing_ tone, as her colleagues knew it, and got back to the papers spread on her desk.

Jess felt his jaw drop an inch and swallowed a bitter comment before standing up to leave. He paused at the door, his fingers forming a loose fist against the door frame.

'I was right,' he turned back, determination making its way through his voice. 'And you know it.'

She continued reading the papers, ignoring him completely.

'You wouldn't be running this place if you didn't,' he finished, his jaw tense, his fingers closing in a tighter fist as he turned and left the room before he had said anything that would cost him his job.

Rory Gilmore turned another page and looked up towards the place where he had just been. She rested back in her swivel chair, a content smile spreading over her lips. So, that would be Luke's nephew.

_He's such a pain in the ass, but he works a lot and he's a total brain, just... give him a chance... Please?_

'Stace,' Rory leaned over the speaker, 'can you get me some background information on Jess Mariano?'

* * *

**Any kind of feedback would be highly appreciated:)**


	2. Nostalgia For Dummies

Disclaimer: I own nothing, _nothing_...

**Summary**: Rory Gilmore has been running her grandfather's publishing house for a year now. She is surprised when she gets a phone call by her mother's ex-boyfriend Luke who asks her a certain favor. Starting from there, her life starts to alter rapidly. AU

A/N 1: Regards (if any) should go to **LitLove** who inspired this in the first place, and to my wonderful, **wonderful beta** - **Ara May**... you make it worth it, ladies, for which I'm truly grateful!

A/N 2: _Okay, guys, I know I'm taking my chances a bit too far, but not only did I 'kill' Lorelai, but I also changed the title of Jess' first book /'quotes' of which are given in italic and surrounded by '...' /. If this could serve any defense, I'm not making random changes, I've got a point /I'd even say a **point**,_ _phew!/_._ Hope it meets the expectations;) But even if it doesn't, well, sorry for wasting your time, I guess... And yet...  
_

**I always hope you enjoy.**

* * *

_..._

_You know, sometimes I see you. I recognize a profile in a crowd, hear someone's laughter two streets away, and it's you. Not _**you**_ you, but a bit you. 'Cause you're there. Here. You're still a bit everywhere.  
_

_I learned to tap dance. Remember how ridiculous I always thought those tap dance lessons you took were? Do you know that the average age of people attending those classes is __fifty-seven years four months_? I do. Calculated it, during one of the breaks. No kidding. Fifty-seven years four months, and only because Mister and Missis Burnsteen had brought their granddaughter. Who's nine.  


___Sometimes I tap dance. In the living room. Or in the corridor. But mostly in the living room. Did you know the acoustic between the sofa and the TV is quite better than the one in the kitchen?_

___...  
_

Rory licked a lip and turned another page, sipping from her coffee.___  
_

...

_- Don't look at me like that.  
_

_- Like what.  
_

_- Like you've got chalk in your mouth.  
_

_- Okay.  
_

_- Do you... Do you have feelings for me?  
_

_- I don't think there is a single feeling that I _don't_ have for you.  
_

_...  
_

Time went by and Rory stifled a yawn, throwing a glance at the Cartier on her wrist. A quarter to midnight. Cinderella wasn't late because of a dance. She was late because she had found a book in the castle's library she just couldn't put down.

She turned another page, making a mental note to order a more comfortable sofa for the Gilmore library first thing tomorrow morning.

_..._

_It's easier for heroes. It's easier for tiny little suckers, them, heroes. 'Cause they do one thing right. One thing at the right moment. A moment hardly convenient for them, but they do one thing right. Make one decision. One by one. One step at a time. No rush, no fuckin' tiny obstacles. Big things, big obstacles, big heroism, _big deal_..._

___I swear my heart was scraping the sky._ That cherry blossomed afternoon, a quarter before supper, my heart was scraping the sky, leaving those puffy white lines, slowly turning purple as the sun went down. 

_Sometimes you feel ridiculously happy. And sometimes you survive it and heal afterwards. 'Cause the safe way to see happiness is when it's gone, in the rear view mirror. __The sky cracks open every time I try to breathe that cherry blossom out, it cracks along white-and-purple lines._  


_And that's why it's easier for heroes. They do one thing properly. Ordinary people have to do right every day. That's why I could really use a chance at the being heroic thing. Because heroes are told they're doing okay, and ordinary people aren't. Yeah, guess heroes are often told that far later than they needed to. Sometimes too late, I s'ppose. But ordinary people aren't told. Ever. At all._

_And I relive it. Every night. And there, in my head, I save her. I save her every time. A thousand different scenarios, but I always save her.  
_

...

'Now, come on, were you reading some really sad book?'

Rory snapped out of the pages and took a breath in, then let it out shakily. She blinked three times, her eyes still fixed on the same word, regaining her cool. It took her less than three seconds to put a stone-like expression on and pin him to the book shelf behind him, cold blue turning colder as she looked up from the sofa.

'Your working time is past gone, I think,' she said evenly, putting the book down and crossing her hands before her chest, the sides of her palms sensing the wild thumping of her heart against her ribs.

There had to be a law against library creeps. She would have to add one to the contracts.

What was the guy's name, again? Something Italian. Mer... Mur... Didn't it rhyme with Soprano? Aargh, couldn't she just call him _Luke's nephew_ and get it over with? And what was he doing here, in _her_ firm's library, at this hour?

She narrowed her eyes, waiting for his answer.

'Coming to work early and that's what I get? Huh. I was rather hoping for a promotion,' he smirked with a one-shoulder shrug.

'You weren't coming to work,' she shook her head and rolled her eyes dismissively. Her eyes fell on the book cover. Mariano! _Right._ Jess Mariano. _Library Creep_ Jess Mariano.

'Written by Jess Mariano,' his smirk grew wider as he stepped closer to the small table where she had put the book down. 'Must be quite something to keep you until four,' he added with a provocative quirk of his dark eyebrows.

_Cocky bastard._

'Hemingway? Really?' Rory challenged, nodding at the book in his hand, crossing her long legs as she rested back in the sofa. 'Looking for a cure of insomnia, aren't we?' she suggested bluntly, giving him a look that usually made most of her employees wish to be insects, scattering out of the room.

'Huh. And hit a dead end. Both of us.'

_You really are going to get as much of the situation as you can, aren't you? Okay, so I was reading your book. Bite me.  
_

'I believe you mentioned something about work,' she said and took her book (well, _his_ book, technically, whatever), making herself comfortable on the sofa, fighting a smirk at the corners of her lips.

_Score, Hemingway!_

'My working time hasn't even started,' he pointed out with mock innocence, obviously finding their conversation much more amusing than going back to his cubicle.

___You can't be for real, can you?_

'Are you still here?' she bobbed her head to the side, eyebrows high, her voice somewhere between command and irritation.

'Okay, _okay_. Jeez.' He shook his head and walked away, a smirk still lingering his lips.

The bastard was getting on her nerves and giving her the creeps... _But _he knew how to write. Her eyes fell back on the book in her lap.

_'Nostalgia for Dummies'._ Written by Jess Mariano.

There was something about his book. It wasn't like anything she had read before. It didn't remind her of anything, yet it reminded her of everything, felt so damn _familiar_. An indistinguishable feeling of recognition she couldn't place anywhere in particular, but that simply floated over the pages.

At first, when Stacy handed her the book and Rory read the title, she thought it was a bit lame. Not very, but lame enough to make her expect some pseudo-deep philosophically crusted crap, _'musings of the wondering mind'_, _'lullabies for a broken heart'_ or something flimsy like that. People crying their hearts out while taking a hot tub or socializing over a glass of Martini on a charity event. But it wasn't. His book wasn't any of that. Not this way. It was nothing she had expected, yet it somehow got too deep, hit too close. And she couldn't tell why.

Maybe it was just... real. The characters, the emotions in it were somehow _correct_, they rang true, and in a way, that got to her.

* * *

'I don't wanna hear anything other than _'Yes, Rory'_,' Rory began before she had even approached Stacy's desk.

Her voice was low and even, which could mean only one thing. She was gonna explode any second now.

Stacy took a deep breath in and kept it for a little longer before letting it out slowly.

'My office,' Rory hissed as she passed by, and flashed through the glass doors of her office.

Stacy followed reluctantly.

'Stacy, you've been working for this firm for how long, fourteen years?' Rory began in a cold, rigid voice, leaning forward, palms resting flat over her desk.

Stacy kept silent, crossing her hands before her chest self-consciously with a stoic grimace, waiting for her boss to spill the beans. Being Rory Gilmore's secretary needed deep understanding of human nature and unearthly patience. Stacy wouldn't be working here for all these years if she didn't have both. She knew Rory would be bitching around for a while, pouring out all venom and stuff, but she had never been unfair.

'You know where I'm coming from now, Stacy?' Rory's voice cut like steel, unwavering. 'The board of directors has just _massacred_ me for taking a certain bank credit so that this firm could get the extension we've been trying for in the last three years,' she continued. 'For making such a decision and keeping it from them.'

For a moment Stacy's jaw dropped. This _was_ big.

'Rory...'

'_Don't_. Don't you ever try to deny it,' Rory hissed, her eyes flashing dangerously. 'I need to hear it from you. How did it happen? What did he use to get to you?'

'What?' Stacy blinked, feeling as if she had just missed some crucial part of this conversation.

'Don't pull this act on me, Stacy!' Rory raised her voice and her finely manicured fist thumped over the bunch of files on her desk, making Stacy flinch and straighten up even more. 'For God's sake, should it have been him? Of all people, of all greedy, manipulative directors, should it have been _him_, Stacy?'

Stormy, unsettled blue sought bay at amber.

Stacy's throat felt dry.

'Rory, I didn't...' her voice quavered. 'Do you really believe I would... _Jesus_, Rory!'

'There was _no way_ he found out without your help,' Rory shook her head slowly and her hand felt for the swivel chair behind her as she sat down. There, for a brief moment, Rory Gilmore, Queen of Publishing business, looked like a helpless child unable to finish a puzzle. Then the moment was gone and blue turned ten degrees colder, a finely outlined jaw tightening.

'Well, _obviously_, he found a way,' Stacy said firmly, lifting her trembling chin, getting ready for this fight, because this was gonna be a tough one.

* * *

'Oh, damn it,' Stacy huffed as she saw him on the roof, smoking a cigarette. She turned to her side to wipe her eyes before she looked ahead again.

'Hey yourself,' Jess acknowledged her with a slow nod, not really sure what was happening.

He studied her face. She was clearly upset, a strand of her carrot colored hair stuck to her damp cheek, her mascara smudged, amber eyes unusually shiny. She surely wasn't looking for company when she climbed up here. But then again, if she decided to walk back into the office, there was no way she would be surrounded by less then a dozen of people, everyone trying to make her tell what's going on, as to ensure another fun ride on the firm gossip train first thing tomorrow morning.

Stacy seemed to have reached to the same conclusion herself, because she took in a slow breath and walked over to the other end of the safety rail.

'Didn't know this was the designated smoking corner,' she said sulkily, her voice marked by irritation.

'It is,' Jess affirmed seriously and took another drag of his cigarette, narrowing his eyes. 'The other corner was already taken for Crying Your Heart Out sessions,' he added with a nonchalant shrug.

Stacy's lips shifted, reluctant at the beginning but then growing bolder into a smile.

They stood silently, each of them looking ahead at the street traffic and neighboring rooftops, before she turned to look at him.

'Can I join your corner?' she asked in a considerably more friendly tone.

'Sure as hell I'm not joining _yours_,' Jess smirked, giving her a sideways glance.

She moved to rest her elbows on the rail next to his.

'I think I just quit.' Stacy admitted stiffly.

'Huh.'

'Won't you ask me why?' she threw him a half-amused sideways glance.

'I know why,' Jess shrugged, blowing out a small smoke circle.

'Oh.' She held back a chuckle.

_Sure you do, weird smart boy._

''Cause she's a bitch,' Jess stated simply, lifting his smoke before his lips, making her lips still in a silent '_Oh._'

'And you're not,' he elaborated before taking another drag, narrowing his eyes.

'And you know that, too,' Stacy smiled and shook her head.

'That's because I'm omniscient,' he pointed out wisely.

'I adore her,' Stacy admitted thoughtfully, her voice traced by a certain kind of sadness. The one you've got when you've tried too hard for too long. 'She's the closest thing to a friend that I have.'

'Yeah. Quitting makes much more sense now.'

'_And_ she could be a cutthroat bitch.'

'Hey, I thought you adored her,' Jess chuckled.

'I do.' Stacy swallowed hard and it was probably the smoke of his cigarette that made her eyes tingle. 'I just don't like her anymore.'

* * *

_I'm sure I saw something beyond Mary Sue and Gary Stu in your work. You see, you've got a story. A good story. But beyond that, you need some hell good writing to measure up to this story, and you need characters. Explore the characters, give them some dimension, at least two of them, actually, see how far they could get in search of..._

'Boss alert,' Matt rolled his swivel towards Jess' desk. Jesus, this guy had to stop doing this, it was starting to get on Jess' nerves.

Jess' fingers paused over the keys of his laptop and he breathed out through his nose. This review was giving him a hard time even without his ginger-haired colleague messing with his personal space that counted to less than a hundred square feet.

'False alarm, she's gone,' Matt chirped, winning a withering stare.

'There's been some speculation,' Chris' swivel chair somehow materialized next to Jess's, 'that _Evil Overlord_ is preparing to take over,' Chris informed with a meaningful nod. 'Ever heard of Mitchum Huntzberger?'

'Oh, you're so gonna _love_ Rory if you meet _Mitch_, she's _Little Red Riding Hood_, when compared to him,' Matt shook his head knowingly. 'He's the _rudimentary evil_ in publishing business, if you get what I mean,' he pointed out in a low voice.

'They used to be partners with Rory's grandfather,' Chris took on, 'but then Mitchum made the _epic fail_ when he lost some really _huge_ deals and Richard became _King of the Castle_.'

'When he lost his daughter, Rory's mother, he took on Rory's education, so that she could become _Her Highness_ one day, which she managed pretty well, until _now_...' Matt trailed off, making a hand gesture in the air to add an air of suspense, or at least he hoped so.

'But _Mitch_ has _always_ been there, _lurking in the shadows,_' Chris finished with a nod, lifting his eyebrows meaningfully.

'Are you guys _trained_ how to finish each other's sentences?' Jess huffed sarcastically, closing his eyes, rubbing his temples with his point and middle finger.

'Look,' he continued diplomatically, 'you're both breathing my air, _and_,' he raised his point finger as they opened their mouths to reply, '_before_ any of you initiates another fascinating fill-me-in conversation, there is a pretty serious chance that my _'I'll buy you coffees if you don't piss me off'_ offer expires. So, _gentlemen_, if you'll excuse me...' he finished mock apologetically, bobbing his head to the right in an indication for them to go back to their desks.

Matt and Chris gave him a dirty look and moved back to their working places. Jess had established some kind of routine with those two. It was a little similar to yo-yo dynamics, and could be summarized in two main steps. One, they came and buggered him while trying to update him on office gossip. Two, he told them to piss off, sometimes trying to _bribe_ them into leaving him alone with some food or coffee (once he used a stapler, trying to scare Chris back onto his cubicle, but was that guy tough...).

Of course, he would rather die than admit it, but that first day, two months ago, Matt had been right. In a way. Jess was starting to get used to that office mythology thing, it somehow drew you in, no matter how much you initially hated it. Hating it while being in the center of it all, well, it just grew on you.

* * *

'Have you ever thought that maybe she just don't have what it takes?'

Mitchum and Logan Huntzberger were standing in the middle of Mitchum's office, facing each other fervently. Father and son, both of them sure that the other is utterly mistaken.

'You really don't get it, do you?' Logan sighed, making a nervous gesture with his left hand. 'Literati is her. It's Richard and it's her. Never been us.'

'I can't believe you are so blind not to see what great opportunity this is for you. For us. Are you afraid of taking more responsibility, Logan?' Mitchum narrowed his eyes, well aware of his son's disability to show courage and grow a backbone.

'This is a mistake,' Logan shook his head wearily.

'You're unbelievable,' Mitchum's voice rose an octave higher, his face getting dangerously red with each next word. 'How is getting control over one of New York's major publishing companies a mistake, eh? Logan?'

'It's everything she's got!' Logan's voice rose, too, wavering with indignation. 'This is wrong.'

Suddenly Mitchum's laughter filled the room. Logan gave him a weird look.

'You...' Mitchum snorted, trying to keep his breathing regular despite the laughs, 'you actually care about that pretentious bitch, don't you?' he shook his head disbelievingly. 'Well, my son, you'll change your mind once you see the real face of a Gilmore. Gilmores don't have friends, Logan. Remember my word.'

* * *

'I know, I know, but can't you tell them next time that my laptop lacked an _'l'_ and I had to fill in the blanks somehow, so it all should be read as _'Luck, luck, luck!'_?'

'What's wrong with you?' Rory's eyebrows knit scornfully.

'I was just saying what everybody thought,' Jess put his hands up in defense. 'I don't even know why you insisted that I was present on this meeting.'

'_Because_ she came in here, ready to sue... which she most probably will, after your little fiasco,' Rory crossed her hands before her chest in disapproval.

Jess' hands made a semicircle in the air.

'She's just another whined up, loaded socialite who thought she could be the next Bushnell. I was just being honest.'

'You were being an ass,' Rory clarified.

'Huh, what do you know, I'm a complicated man,' he countered, pacing to and fro before her desk.

'Still an ass.'

'Okay, then, I'm a complicated ass,' he huffed, giving up. Then he paused, grasping a certain shift in her expression.

'Wait a sec...' he narrowed his eyes in a moment of enlightenment. 'You _wanted_ me to be an ass, so that you could wash your hands with me and not have to tell her all that crap yourself!' he pointed a finger at her, catching her a little off guard before she could compose her features back into a dismissive grimace.

'Oh, don't go ballistic,' she rolled her eyes, but Jess slapped his forehead.

'Jeez, you really did, didn't you?'

_Crazy, bossy, manipulative..._

'Behind every great good cop is an even greater bad cop, Watson.'

_... devious..._

'Come on, now, cubicle,' she chirped, her voice suddenly a cheerful timbre.

'Huh?'

'Cubicle, or you're gonna be grounded!'

He looked at her like she were crazy. She gave him a dead-serious look right before she laughed. He gazed at her dumbfound for a second before he chuckled himself. Her voice sounded different when she laughed. It was actually contagious. Made her look more full of life and more... _human_.

Jess shook his head and left the room, wondering if maybe Snow Queen Gilmore could turn out to be more than what met the eye. He remembered something he had come across lately, while looking through a Danish fairytale anthology,_ 'Sometimes cruel, sometimes kind. Like winter. In most stories she seems to like cute young male mortals.'_

As he got into the elevator, he let out a low chuckle. _Snow Queen._ _Huh!_

* * *

'Some day I'll find myself a good girl and marry her,' Tristan said, sitting at the foot of the bed. His voice was sullen, a little nostalgic, maybe.

Rory continued dressing up in front of the mirror, her look fixed on her loose dress strap.

'What do you think,' he asked, but it wasn't a question, really. He knew the answer. Just needed to hear her say it.

Rory paused, her fingers at the zipper bottom. Then she drag the tag up, her fingers draping along the silky fabric of the dress.

Her eyes caught his in the mirror before she turned around and made a step towards the bed, lifting a palm to his cheek.

'You're a great man, Tris,' she said softly, 'and you deserve to be happy,' her eyes kept his as he looked up at her, a glint of hope crossing his face. 'When the time comes, I'll give my congrats.'

_I won't be that girl, Tris._

His face fell. Just a little, because he wasn't really surprised.

'I'll say how happy I am for you,' she continued calmly, methodically. Like closing a deal. 'And I will be. But I'll make a fine excuse and won't be present at the wedding. But I will be. Happy for you. I will.'

* * *

Mitchum Huntzberger stood by the window of his office and sighed contently.

'Norma,' he bent over the speaker phone on his desk, 'Prepare to pack, we're gonna be moving much sooner than I'd planned to.'

* * *

**Let me know what you think?**


	3. Rocket Science

Disclaimer: It would be kinda cool if I owned anything, but I _DON'T..._

**Summary**: Rory Gilmore has been running her grandfather's publishing house for a year now. She is surprised when she gets a phone call by her mother's ex-boyfriend Luke who asks her a certain favor. Starting from there, her life starts to alter rapidly. AU

Thank you, **LitLove**, for inspiring this! And to my wonderful beta - **Ara May, YOU ROCK!**

A/N: _That **point** I've been talking about, well, think it gets clearer in this chapter.  
_

**I always hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Jess was staring at the picture hanging from the wall that lead the way to Richard Gilmore's former office. Rory's grandfather came to visit next to never, but she never let it become anyone else's office.

'That's her,' Matt stopped by Jess, holding a cup of coffee. '_Lorelai Gilmore_,' he elaborated. 'There's something like a cult for her on the upper floors... It's like the family made missing her a religion or something. There's even a _festival_ in her honor.'

'Huh?' Jess asked absentmindedly, his eyes never leaving the blue ones in the photo.

'You know, with snobby music and photographers, cocktails and stuff,' Matt explained readily, 'It's actually more of a PR campaign, I think.'

The woman in the photo was young. Thirty something. She was laughing, her chin resting in her palms. Her look was directed slightly to the side, she was looking at someone who was standing next to the photographer.

'She plays her mother's CDs. She locks her office and plays them, sometimes so loudly you can hear them even through the isolation glass. And she pours herself a drink, Bloody Mary, her _favorite_. And then she...'

'Matt?' Jess turned to face him abruptly, making the other man wince.

'Eh?' Matt blinked.

'Shut up.'

'Oh. Okay.'

* * *

'Come on, Stacy. Look, I know you're mad but... Fine, I deserve it, okay? Talk to me, don't talk to me, I just... Gah, I could really use someone with good taste to share those _tickets_ with...'

Click of a door unlocking.

'Hey,' Rory straightened up.

A hand coming out behind the door, palm up. Rory put the tickets in the hand and it disappeared behind the door almost immediately. She waited for a moment, then another. Nothing happened.

'Stace?' Rory stepped from one foot to the other uneasily. Hanging in front of a locked door in a block of flats wasn't her favorite thing to do, especially on a Friday evening. 'Okay, then. Tonight, instead of watching _Les Mis_ on their US tour with you, I'll just have to carry those _Tiffanies_ away with me, back to my _lonely_ apartment where...' Rory began deliberately slowly and her heart jumped up with hope as she heard a chain lock cling against the door frame.

A sulky, yoga pants and tank top clad Stacy appeared at the door, one hand stretched out, the other akimbo.

Rory couldn't hold her grin. She met Stacy's expectant, serious look.

'Here,' Rory handed her the jewellery box and kept Stacy's hand between hers for a brief moment. 'And I'm sorry.'

'How much do we have?' Stacy sighed with forced irritation, but Rory could tell her features had warmed up.

* * *

Loud music, coming from her office made him stop in his track on his way to the library. He had made it a habit of his to sneak into the Gilmore library after work time, when most of the employees had left. _Her Highness_ was rarely working late in her office, so _Olympus_ territory was usually clean at this hour.

Jess stopped and his gaze wandered round the room, going through the glass walls of her office to find her sitting on her beige leather swivel, hands resting on its armrests, eyes closed. There was a certain difference between a sleeping person and his boss right now. He couldn't pick it in a particular detail. Maybe it was the occasional flutter of her eyelids, or maybe it was at the corners of her mouth where a smile was slowly tugging its way up. Her finger pads were tapping a beat against the leather of the armrests.

_I am done with my graceless heart, so tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart..._

Florence and the Machine? Yup. _Huh._ Somehow it suited her. His hands stuck deeper in his pockets._  
_

_And given half the chance would I take any of it back..._

Jess stood planted to the spot, both aware he was invading someone's personal space and finding himself unable to move away. The song changed.

_I would like to leave this city, this old town don't smell too pretty. I can feel the warning signs running around my mind..._

She sunk deeper in her chair, swiveling from side to side in time with the beat. He was nodding unconsciously, following the easy rhythm._  
_

Another change of song. Guitars. Gentle rock.

_I hung your picture on the wall..._

The Goo Goos. His foot was tapping the floor, hands still in his pockets.

_Cuz everything's wrong, but it's alright... Everything's wrong. Well, it's alright..._

Her lips parted and she took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Like something passing through her and then going away. And suddenly a picture of a seventeen year old girl with blue eyes and a black dress emerged in his mind.

_I hung your picture on the wall, but that's all it is..._

Jess frowned. He wasn't close enough to tell for sure, but her eyelids squeezed slightly and she bit her lip, as a person crying._  
_Jess shook his head and walked away, his visit to the library completely forgotten._  
_

* * *

...

_You know, I had a bus ride today. Some old woman with crazy blue hair sat on the seat next to me. How does this hair color even exist, eh? She also had those thick-lens dark-rimmed glasses on, ones that surely allowed her to see life on Mars, if any, perked behind the hump of her thin sharp nose. I can't really imagine what she looked like when she was younger, but now her features appeared so sharp, skin dry and wrinkled, that I thought she could maybe feature for a Hansel and Gretel movie, and surely not casting as Gretel. She smelled like some old-fashioned cologne, strong and sharp._

_ Looking at her made growing old look... natural, I guess. Or real. It looked like the normal thing to do - grow old and start looking like a dried fig. Jesus..._

_ And right there, at that moment, I thought of you._

_ How I'll never know what you'll look like thirty years from now. How I'll never know if I'd still find you beautiful when your features sharpened and you dyed your hair with blue rinse...  
_

_ Then I felt something over my hand. She was freaking holding my hand and she was smiling at me... Her smile was nice, tender in a way, it made her thin sharp nose look less humped. She looked at me, her look traced by pity. Her eyes were blue._

_Right there, at this very moment, I thought I was gonna choke. And for a moment I did. Then it was over and I just stood there, holding the hand of an elderly hump-nosed lady with wrinkled skin that hung loose round her blue eyes.  
_

_...  
_

* * *

'She from Stars Hollow?'

'Huh?'

_Queen Bee_ coming to his cubicle past working time, that _had_ to be fun.

'She is, isn't she?' Rory insisted, lifting the book up in the air. _Aah, the book._ _His_ book. Jess' shoulders stiffened.

'Whatever,' he shook his head in a _'Yeah, and Santa may come down through the chimney'_ fashion and continued scribbling in the margins of a manuscript.

Rory narrowed her eyes and stepped closer into the cubicle, leaning over Jess' shoulder.

'King of sarcasm, Jess Mariano, fell in love with a small town girl. She loved you back?' she tried. 'Yes, she did!' she exclaimed as she saw the shift in his expression.

There was a soulmate even for anthropophobic loners like him, after all. Understanding women was rocket science.

'What do you know, someone really felt for you, after all,' her smile grew warmer and she leaned back against his desk so that she faced him, hands crossed before her chest expectantly. 'Come on, Jess, it's not the worst thing that could happen to a man,' she continued wisely.

'If you're so desperate to know, it wasn't me, it was a...' he paused and met her scrutinizing gaze.

'It was a friend,' he huffed frustratedly.

_For once, can't you just drop it, Gilmore?_

'Sure.' Rory grinned. 'And who did your _friend_ fall for?'

'Believe me, you don't wanna know,' he scoffed.

'Oh, I _know_ her, don't I?' Rory exclaimed, her thoughts rushing. She had been right. _So_ right.

'She got blue eyes? Those blue motives that kept reappearing in the book, it's her, isn't it?' she tried, biting back a smile.

His jaw tightened. Her heart thumped faster. Oh, she was _so_ gonna get to the bottom of this! But for this to happen, she had to change tactics.

'She was stunning, mesmerizing, even,' she teased, her voice turning sweet, dreamy, trying to get him to confide.

'She swept you off your feet,' she continued hypnotizingly, 'But you'd well rather die than admit it, cause admitting love is like pinning your heart on a dirty shirt pocket. Even though, somehow she _knew_... and she loved you back. My God, she _really_ loved you back!'

Jess bit his lip with a stoic grimace and breathed out through his nose.

Rory watched him closely. She was getting close. Real close. It rose her adrenaline and she continued exasperatedly.

'She loved you but for some reason it didn't work and you were broken. And oh so stubborn. And proud. She left and you'd never admit just how much you missed her. Why didn't you call her? If you cared so much, why didn't you...'

'Drop it, Rory.'

'I just can't wrap my mind round...'

'It was Luke, okay?' he breathed out, jerking his head to the side so that brown met blue. 'The man in the book isn't me, it's Luke,' he repeated quietly.

_And the girl he loved was your mom._

Rory's jaw felt stiff. Her eyes started to prick.

'You're right. I don't wanna know. Excuse me.'

* * *

'It's a story about a man...' Jess said quietly as he entered her office, some time later, '... a lonely man,' he added, his hand moving up to rub the back of his neck.

She was sitting in her swivel turned towards the window and Jess couldn't see her face.

'It's not a story about your mom,' he continued, his voice gentle, soothing.

'I never erased her voice from the answering machine,' Rory said, sounding a bit scratchy. 'I played it over and over, so... so that...' her voice wavered and she took a sharp breath.

'And we hold those stupid winter festivals,' she continued after a beat, 'With snowman contests and _cocktails_. But it's so not her. She would've mocked it, all the way through. But without her it's just... it's...' she trailed off and shook her head before she took another breath. 'I need to be alone. Please.'

He gave her a nod she couldn't see and hesitated for just a second before leaving the room.

* * *

'I met a girl.' Tristan said, keeping her hand from getting to the button line of his shirt and holding it in his. His eyes escaped hers, fixed over their holding hands.

Rory stepped back, but he kept her hand in his.

'I wanna date her.' He admitted even quieter.

Rory tried to sneak her hand out but his grip tightened round her fingers. 'And I'll miss you,' his voice was a bit scratchy.

Rory took a breath and let it out quickly. He lifted his head, his eyes seeking. She tried to force her lips into a smile but failed. Then she opened her mouth to say the words she had promised him for this moment when the time came, but, instead, heard herself say,

'Will you hold me?... Just for a while.'

Tristan gave her a gentle nod, leading her towards the bed, pulling her down with him. As they lay down, bed sinking under their weight, he drew her back against his chest and his hands laced with hers over her belly. They had been lying like this for a while when Rory whispered,

'I'm happy for you, Tris.'

Then she slipped out of his embrace, grabbed her purse and left this hotel room and his life.

* * *

Two days later, in a room full of important people with prestige university diplomas, an elderly man with grey tie was finishing his speech, surrounded by tense silence.

'The Board of Directors has come up with a decision... Welcome the new Managing Director of Literati Publishing, Mitchum Huntzberger!'

Rory swallowed drily and applauded along with the others, clasps ricocheting like slaps.

* * *

_Song lyrics used: 'Shake It Out' by Florence and the Machine; 'Half the World Away' by Oasis; 'Two Days In February' by Goo Goo Dolls_

* * *

**Reviews are always appreciated..._  
_**


	4. Ant Floor

Disclaimer: This could actually be happening on screen if I owned anything, which I _DON'T..._

**Summary**: Rory Gilmore has been running her grandfather's publishing house for a year now. She is surprised when she gets a phone call by her mother's ex-boyfriend Luke who asks her a certain favor. Starting from there, her life starts to alter rapidly. AU

A/N: Thank you, **LitLove**, for inspiring this! And to my wonderful beta - **Ara May, YOU ROCK and I'm lucky to have you!**

**Okay, this chapter contains a few (or more) cliches, but it's all in the name of a certain cause... Hope you enjoy!  
**

* * *

_ 8:03 a.m., Monday, __October_ 8, 2012

_Literati Ltd. Office Quarters, 6th floor (a.k.a. Ant Floor)_

'Here she comes,' Chris announced in conspiratorial theatrical whisper from the door and then hurried to take his place behind his desk.

Less than two seconds later, Rory entered the room, holding a messenger bag in one hand while balancing an enormous coffee jug in the other. She headed directly towards her cubicle, her former employees' eyes burning her back.

Jess looked up and his chin rested over his knuckles while he watched her openly. They exchanged a nod and he didn't miss the flair of dignity that she still seemed to have around her, Managing Director or not.

As she passed by the other employees, they bent their heads lower and started to type faster, as if trying to grow smaller, busier under her scrutiny.

_The initial fear of the boss. Finding comfort in your own insignificance.  
_

Mitchum Huntzberger's idea of justice was a _Prince and the Pauper_ version of revenge for her, sending her back at the base of the pyramid, here on Ant Floor.

'Miss Gilmore?'  
Rory looked up from her cubicle. The delivery guy nodded back and took out a bunch of manuscripts that was considerably thicker than the ones he had just handled to the other employees.

'Due tomorrow morning,' the guy mumbled, putting a tick in his notebook and moving on to the others. 'Next, Laura Leeds.'

Rory took the bunch and started sorting the files over her desk, putting colored labels over the different manuscripts in a neat, organized manner. She didn't grunt, didn't sigh, didn't comment, she didn't practically _react_. This was more work than most employees could do in three days, let alone one. Chris, whose cubicle was closest to hers, watched her mesmerized.

* * *

_ 1:50 p.m., Monday, __October_ 8, 2012

_Literati Cafeteria, 1st floor  
_

'She's a _machine_, man,' Chris commented enthusiastically later in the cafeteria, during lunch break. 'Even _you_ don't read that fast, dude' he nudged Jess' elbow, winning an irritated growl. 'No, _seriously_. Even he doesn't read that fast,' Chris gave Matt a meaningful nod.

'We can easily figure this out,' Matt grinned over his tea. 'We should run a _betting contest_ - starting with three hundred pages each.'

'Four hundred each and fifty bucks for the blue horse,' Chris said enthusiastically.

Jess gave him an annihilating look.

'Okay, then,' Chris put a hand up in defense, '_And_ twenty bucks for the black horse,' he added generously. 'But only cuz' we mingle in lunch breaks and sometimes you buy me coffee.'

'Man, you can't bet for _both_ horses,' Matt countered vigorously while chasing a carrot with his fork around the plate.

'Sure I can!' Chris replied with equal enthusiasm.

'No, you _can't_, man, just _pick_ a horse!'

Jess coughed and each cast an absentminded glance towards him, registering a grimace that could be generally interpreted as threatening.

'Sorry, but did you both just call me a _horse_? Multiple times?'

'Eh... no?' Matt suggested diplomatically.

'_Good_.' Jess huffed and took a bite of his sandwich. 'Good.'

* * *

_3:25 p.m., Monday, October 15th, 2012,_

_Literati Ltd. Office Quarters, Ant Floor_

'A book's missing from my desk.'

'How sad.'

'_'Howl'._ Ring any bells?' Rory crossed her hands before her chest expectantly.

'Nope.' Jess continued typing, ignoring her presence.

'Interesting,' an amused grin started its way up her lips.

'What is.'

'You've got it under your thigh,' she pointed out, nodding towards the dog-eared pamphlet, one end of which was showing under Jess' thigh.

'Huh! Were you checking me out?' he turned up to face her, cocking an eyebrow.

She blushed but also quirked her eyebrows provocatively above the black rims of her reading glasses.

_Really, Mariano? Flirting with your ex-boss-was-to-be-your-cousin-gonna-kick-your-ass-so-badly?_

'Maybe, and you _do_ have my _'Howl'_ under your thigh.'

Jess rested his chin on his knuckles and smiled tightly.

'No, I don't,' he shook his head.

'_Seriously?_'

'As a heart attack,' he blinked back, his smile stubbornly in place.

'Whatever you say, _Dodger,_' she shrugged and turned to leave.

'_Dodger_.'

'Figure it out,' she turned back and gave him a nod.

'Sure, _Mrs. Corney,_' he muttered under his nose before returning to his work.

* * *

_6:04 p.m._, _Monday, October 15th, 2012,_

_Literati Ltd. Office Quarters, Ant Floor_

Rory packed her stuff in the messenger bag, ready to go home, when she felt her phone ringing. It jumped over her desk, _Logan H._ flashing from the screen.

She paused, the bag swaying forth and back from her shoulder. She bit a lip, staring at the smiling picture on the screen. The mobile kept vibrating and Rory finally grabbed it, shoveling it in her bag with a sigh.

* * *

_08:05 a.m._, _Monday, October 22nd, 2012,_

_Literati Ltd. Office Quarters, Ant Floor_

'Delivery time!' the two delivery guys announced, pushing a trolley between the cubicles.

As they finished distributing the new scripts and taking away the old ones, both employees headed towards the elevator, but stopped in their way as a young blond man in an expensive suit stepped out of the elevator.

'Hey, guys,' the blond smiled and passed them by, hardly hearing their surprised '_Hello, Mr Huntzberger_.'

They exchanged confused looks behind his back and shrugged, waiting to see if something interesting was going to happen. Boss figures coming to Ant Floor was always a promising start of the day.

'What's _Goldenlocks_ doing here?' Chris elbowed Matt while eying the shiny blond.

'His father must've put _Vader Junior_ in charge,' Matt whispered back.

They threw a glance towards Rory's desk. She was sitting straight up, her features frozen in an unreadable expression.

Logan Huntzberger stopped in the middle of the room and suddenly the air stilled with silence and anticipation. He swallowed hard and threw an anxious look towards Rory's cubicle, his eyes pleading when they met hers, meeting blue indifference. Then he forced a smile and began.

'Hello, I'm Logan Huntzberger,' he began, 'which you most probably know, judging by how silent you are right now,' he continued with a nervous smile and a couple of employees chuckled politely.

'As current Executive Director of Literati Publishing,' he continued awkwardly, 'I want to welcome any new entries for this year's _Literati Scholarship_ contest. Remember, every intern has a shot, so make sure all candidates are enlisted. Teams can consist of two to five members, your scripts and presentations will be accepted until Thursday next week, right after the Halloween party.'

Then he made a few steps towards Rory's desk, lowering his voice discreetly.

'Rory,' he took a breath, seeking eye contact, 'I hate to have to ask this but, as ex Managing Director, do you have an entry to make?'

It was a tradition for each Managing Director to suggest an intern for the scholarship. And she would have, had a certain feeble minded spineless creep's _bossy ass father_ not taken that chance away from her, by organizing a witch hunt and stealing her position.

Rory's lips had formed a thin white line and she swallowed once before she opened her mouth to speak.

'Yes, she does,' a male voice cut in, making people turn their heads towards the place where it had come from. Chris had stepped forward, his fingers curling into a nervous fist.

'What?' Rory turned to face him questioningly in a _'You out of your mind?'_ fashion.

'Good Lord,' Matt shook his head, resting his forehead against his knuckles.

'Huh,' Jess' eyebrows quirked up.

'I'm Christian Gibson,' Chris continued, gaining courage with each word, 'that's Matthew Patterson,' he nudged Matt, making the red-headed man straighten up immediately, 'and the dangerous looking guy over there is Jess Mariano. We're Miss Gilmore's team,' he finished, ignoring Jess' cutthroat expression.

Logan's gaze pondered between Rory and the three guys, not sure if the man was joking or simply delusional.

'Rory?' Logan asked, leaning towards his cubicle.

Rory's mouth was still slightly open but then she lifted her chin and cast him a dazzling smile.

'That's right,' she confirmed, 'Mister Gibson just wanted to make sure our team was enlisted along with the others,' she said in her closing tone, winning an appreciative nod from Chris, a confused smile from Matt and a_ 'What the fuck?.'_ stare from Jess.

* * *

_8:30 a.m._, _Monday, October 22nd, 2012,_

_Literati Ltd. Office Quarters, Ant Floor Toilet Room  
_

'Man, what the hell _got_ into you?' Matt pointed a finger at Chris, shaking his head in disbelief.

'What?' Chris put his hands up in defense. 'He _was_ gonna enter the contest, anyway,' he nodded towards Jess, who was leaning over the door frame, looking up at the ceiling, hands crossed before his chest, foot tapping nervously over the tiles.

'_Don't_ even get there,' Jess snapped between gritted teeth, casting him a stung look.

'You were?' Rory, who had been pacing to and fro, turned towards Jess, suddenly interested.

'Whatever,' Jess hissed frustratedly, chewing on the inside of his cheek, looking up again.

'So, you do have something,' Rory said more to herself than to anyone in particular. 'Guys,' she added a minute later, 'I think we have a shot here,' she concluded pensively.

* * *

_7:35 p.m._, _Monday, October 22nd, 2012,_

_Literati Ltd. Office Quarters, Rooftop Terrace  
_

'Huh.'

'What?'

'Nothing,' he shrugged with a smirk and looked back at the dark rooftops.

'Oh, come _on_,' she huffed, quivering as the chilly air pricked at her skin. With another step she leveled him next to the safety rail.

'It's just...' he threw her a sideways glance and then shook his head, deciding against the thought.'... nothing.'

Rory stepped from foot to foot and brought her arms up around herself, rubbing her sides, trying to warm up. He took a pack of cigarettes out of his jeans pocket and lit.

After a while, she turned to look at him and met his gaze. He was holding the smoke between his fingers and he was watching her. _Studying_ her, like... like he saw right through her.

She had caught him do this a couple of times before, on Ant Floor. Once in the cafeteria. A silent observer, watching from a distance, trying to prove some point, known to him only, ready to deny it right away, if caught.

She could imagine him standing on one of the high stools at _Luke'_s, a ruffle-haired teenager with band T-shirt and baggy jeans, pretending to be reading, completely bored with the rest of the world, while in fact absorbing everything, from the quirky manners of Stars Hollow population to the way his uncle's look turned towards the door every time the bell rang and someone entered the diner laughing.

Right now, he looked something between surprised and amused. She couldn't hold an inner smile at the thought that, for once, _he_ was the bemused one.

_ Okay, I agreed on lounging for your new book, so what?_

'Okay,' Rory shrugged and reached out. Her fingers brushed his briefly as she sneaked the cigarette out of his hand. She kept his gaze as she took a drag, her eyes narrowing as nicotine caressed her receptors, an unexpected wave of relief washing through her.

It felt refreshing not to care. Those three weeks she had spent on Ant Floor were the closest she had gotten to freedom in the last couple of years. Losing everything could mean so little. Or maybe her everything had just not been worth it.

'Okay,' Jess nodded slowly and sneaked the cigarette back out of her hand, taking a deep drag. Their eyes met again and this time he held her gaze for a little longer than usual, long enough for her to catch a glint and reflect it before averting her eyes.

A couple of windows in the opposite building went dark, one by one. Rory imagined someone walking in the corridor, turning the lights off. She reached out to take the remaining of his smoke.

'Don't be a Scrooge,' she said, taking another drag, bumping her hip slightly into his, letting a lazy smile creep up her lips as he bumped her back.

'Dodger, wasn't I?' he smirked, sticking his hands deep in his pockets, slowly rocking on his heels.

Freedom. It had been such a long time. More than she could imagine.

* * *

_4:16 p.m._, _Monday, October 29th, 2012,_

_Literati Ltd. Office Quarters, Ant Floor  
_

'Whoa, whoa... Easy there, Rambo.'

Ignoring her comment, Jess continued making circles round his desk, kicking it occasionally.

'Color me intrigued,' she mumbled, pausing a few feet away, watching him in surprise.

He took a drawer out and emptied it over the desk surface.

'Hey. _Jess_.'

She took him by his sides, turning him towards herself, her eyes leveling his for just a moment before he slipped out of her grip, continuing rummaging through drawers, emptying them over his desk. Rory leaned over his shoulder, trying to figure out what the fuss was about.

'Whoa, Houston, what's going on?'

'It's gone. It's fucking gone,' Jess huffed and kicked his desk yet another time.

'What's gone?' Rory's brows furrowed.

'My script,' he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

'Your script,' she blinked.

'Are you gonna repeat everything that I say, or are you gonna help out?' he asked agitatedly.

She paused and studied his expression again. He was really upset. She didn't think she would ever see him really angry. Or confused. Right now, he was both. Heck, his script _was_ really missing. Heck, _his script_. _The_ script. Their only shot at the intern contest so that she could get it back at Mitchum...

'What am I looking for?' she came back to her senses, concentrating over the task at hand.

'Grey memory card or blue flash,' he answered, his eyes wandering around the mess over his desk. 'They were here this morning. So was the file on my hard.'

After another twenty minutes of fruitless search, he sat down on the floor, resting his head back against the desk, eyes closed.

'Forget it, not gonna find them,' he sighed.

'You think...' she bit her lip and sat on the floor next to him, 'you think someone took them?'

'_Of course_ someone took them,' he shook his head, hands curling into fists. 'I'm a complete idiot,' he snarled, pressing both fists together at the knuckles.

'Hey, hey,' she put a hand on his elbow, 'you're not an idiot.'

'Wasn't any good, anyway,' he shook his head with a sour smile.

'It was,' she countered quietly, and he looked up. She held his gaze for a while before she stood up abruptly and clapped her hands twice. 'Come on, chop-chop!' she made him an impatient gesture to get up. 'Library. Now.'

She took his laptop along with the charger and started towards the elevator. Jess blinked a couple of times, not sure what was going on, but followed, anyway.

In the elevator he threw her a sideways glance. She looked perfectly composed, determination coloring her features.

'Come on,' Rory chirped once she had settled on the sofa, the laptop open on the coffee table before her.

'Come on what?'

'Come on, we're gonna restore your script!' she informed him, a crazy glint in her blue eyes.

'Oh. _Oh_, oh, oh,' Jess laughed, making a step back. '_No_ way. Not gonna happen.'

* * *

_2:33 a.m._, _Monday, October 29th, 2012,_

_Literati Ltd. Office Quarters, 12th floor (Olympus), Gilmore Library  
_

'My eyes are about to start bleeding,' Jess shook his head, stopping in the middle of the path he had rubbed into the floor.

'That's because you've decaffeinated,' Rory explained wisely, lifting the coffee jug up without tearing her eyes away from the screen. 'Come on, all we need to do is go on like this for the next twenty-four hours and we're about to finish this.'

'Jesus Christ,' Jess hung his head back, closing his burning eyes.

* * *

_10:40, October 31st, 2012,_

_Literati Ltd. Lobby Bar, -1 floor_

'Can I join the family?' she whispered conspiratorially, leaning over his shoulder.

Jess smirked and turned, scotch in one hand, fedora hat in the other.

'What have you got for us, child?' he asked, making his voice low and husky, stretching the words.

Rory chuckled at the sight of his trouser braces and mobster mustache but then composed herself into a dead-serious expression.

'I can sing in a way that can make all people in this room faint,' she whispered in a low, secretive voice.

'Then welcome to the family, _Sparrow_,' he played along. 'Or should I call you Edith?' his eyebrows raised questioningly.

'As long as I can call you _Vito,_' Rory replied with an amused quirk of her eyebrow.

'Now, _Miss Piaf_, I'm gonna make you an offer you can't refuse.'

_"Every damn fool thing you do in this life, you pay for," _Rory recited, trying to pull off a French accent. 'All ears, my Italian fellow.'_  
_

'Rory, we have a problem,' Matt (dressed like a mummy) cut in, making her a gesture to follow him.

They broke eye contact and brown anchored away from blue. Hers was a dangerous shade of blue, one that could easily get you drowned, if not careful.

Jess rubbed the back of his head as he watched Matt and Rory go towards a corner where a Ramses-lookalike Chris was sitting in an armchair, typing on a laptop vigorously, editing the script for tomorrow morning.

'Trick or treat, Mr Mariano,' an unpleasantly patronizing male voice sounded behind him.

Jess turned to face Joseph Stalin. Or at least a Mitchum Huntzberger version of him.

'I must say I was intrigued,' Mitchum purred, looking like a cat who got away with a whole hen. '_The Subsect_. Very original.'

Jess' eyes flashed dangerously.

'It's really inspiring to see such enthusiasm in young people,' he continued with clear knowledge of how unwelcome his presence was. The philosophy of a predator. _Scare your pray shitless. Drain its brains out of rage, if not out of fear._

'I felt an inspiration myself,' Mitchum shared with fake awkwardness. 'So I decided to make an entry.'

Jess blinked, smiling tightly with emphatic politeness, feeling a familiar tingling run over his palms.

'A young talented lady has taken onto writing my memoirs,' Mitchum finished proudly, evoking a wave of laughter mixed with anger in Jess' chest.

'I'm really looking forward to tomorrow, Jess,' Mitchum shook his head with a broad smile. 'The Subsect. Philosophical challenge, I would say. The dedication got me moved...' he sighed. 'Well, _Jess_,' Mitchum touched his temple with his point and middle finger, 'I'll be seeing you.'

Mitchum Huntzberger turned and headed for the other end of the room. Jess stood, his thoughts racing rapidly. He could see it happening, the images clear in his mind. A few brief steps forward, he grabs Stalin by the collar of his coat and an uppercut says all he has to say.

Jess took four brief steps forward.

His fingers started to curl into a fist, but something laced through them. A hand. In the end, he ended up freaking holding someone's hand. He jerked his head to the side, ready to land his fist on whomever had decided to mess with him right now, to meet a familiar pair of blue eyes.

'May I have this dance?' Rory smiled when their eyes met and made a step towards him, thus blocking his way to Mitchum.

Before he could pull away, he found himself swaying, his arms finding their place on the small of her back.

_If you leave me now, you'll take away the biggest part of me_...

What the... For a moment the slow rhythm of her fingertips brushing his nape overtook his brain function. His heart was still racing, partly with anger and partly with surprise.

_Uh uh uh uh no baby please don't go..._

Huh? _Chicago_? Really? This was absurd. His brows knit in an attempt to conduct indignation, but at the same time his palms had found a place they fitted and didn't want to leave.

_How could we let it slip away  
We've come too far to leave it all behind_

Jeez. He should've waved her off and punched the bastard, anyway... He continued swaying.

'Nice touch with the villain mustache,' Rory whispered, making him smirk against his will.

'You should've waited to see my villain uppercut,' he noted sulkily.

_'How could we end it all this way_...'

She moved her lips along with the song, making him roll his eyes.

_'Uh uh uh uh no baby, please don't go,'_ she sung along so incredibly out of tune that he let out an unconscious chuckle.

'You weren't joking about that singing until people faint thing, eh?' he smirked.

'Nope,' she shook her head with a childish grin.

His eyes paused over the red lipstick on her lips. The song ended and they stopped swaying. It took him a moment to remember how to use his feet again and he stepped away, his palms leaving the place they had found so comfortable just seconds ago.

'Well,' he breathed out, trying to nudge his brain into forming something coherent.

'Well,' Rory flattened an invisible rumple over her _La Piaf_ dark blue sleeve dress.

'Big day tomorrow,' he noted.

'Yeah,' she agreed.

'So...'

'So.'

'See you, Rory.'

'Yeah. See you, Jess.'

* * *

_5:00 p.m., November 1st, 2012,_

_Literati Ltd., Ant Floor Conference Room  
_

'And the winner of this year's Literati Scholarship is... Lizzy Fines and Mitchum Huntzberger with "Memoirs of a Lion".'

'What?.'

'Heck.'

'Huh.'

'_Surprise, surprise_... It doesn't really matter, guys.'

'Oh yeah?'

'Yeah, Chris, it doesn't... or maybe it does. Come on, let's grab some coffee. My treat.'

* * *

_7:55 a.m., November 2nd, 2012,_

_Literati Ltd., Ant Floor  
_

Rory held her coffee before her lips, trying to hide her grin.

There was something sprayed on the floor between the cubicles. The outlines of a dead body, holding a book. _Memoirs of a Lion._

* * *

**Review, maybe?**


	5. Winter Festival

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I still don't own anything.

**Summary**: Rory Gilmore has been running her grandfather's publishing house for a year now. She is surprised when she gets a phone call by her mother's ex-boyfriend Luke who asks her a certain favor. Starting from there, her life starts to alter rapidly. AU

A/N:This fic exists thanks to** LitLove**, who inspired it, and especially thanks to my wonderful beta -** Ara May**, who has been supporting it all along. Thank you, ladies! **Dear Ara**, without your help, nothing of this would be possible!**  
**

* * *

_..._

_Friday night. Or Saturday morning. Clock's bit blurry. Тhat last scotch must be still running in my system. _

_... Remember how much you enjoyed the way I became 'cuddly' after a couple of drinks? Now, I guess, would be a proper time to tell you it wasn't the drinks. Never was. I guess I was just looking for an excuse.  
_

_Clock's fucking blurry but, luckily, no one actually cares what time it is. Or what day. It's been the same day repeating over and over for the last nine months, anyway.  
_

_Huh... I just tried to tap dance round the coffee table and bruised my shin. I think it's pretty bad... _Jeez_...  
_

_I'm going out on the porch now. _Limping_. Whatever. Fresh winter air to clear my mind. Good for my health. Unless I catch pneumonia, that is. Argh, it's freezing...  
_

_Here, I sit down on the stairs and breathe in. A part of me is still waiting for you to storm in after work, shopping bags in hands, full of useless Christmas decoration that made you smile...  
_

_It starts snowing.  
_

_...  
_

* * *

'Rory?'

'...'

'Ace, _please_ don't hang up,' Logan's voice stretched over the line.

'Ace, I wanna talk to you,' he pleaded.

She rolled her eyes.

'Logan, are you drunk? No, wait, stupid question, it's New Year's eve, of course you're drunk,' she sighed and moved towards the less crowded end of the room, next to one of the French windows, the party buzzing joyfully behind her.

The sky was clear, a full moon pinned right above the Gilmore mansion.

'Ace, I need to see you.' Boyish and naive. Very Logan.

'You can. In the office,' she cut.

'No, sorry, you can't. 'Cause you turned out to be a weak minded coward and didn't even come to face me after, completely behind my back, you sniveled into my place and then started running my company.'

'I thought we're friends.' Childish stubbornness.

'Well, so did I,' Rory grunted agitatedly.

It started snowing and her look got transfixed while following the thin pieces of ice as they fell over the window sill.

'I tried to, Ror. I tried to talk to him, I swear. But you know him, he's just...'

'Where are you?' she asked suddenly, to her own surprise.

* * *

'It was gonna be either me or him, Ace,' Logan admitted, suddenly serious, his look focused on the golden cuff buttons of his shirt.

They were in the back of his limo.

'I insisted it was _me_,' he added, some sadness crossing his voice.

She looked at him and he looked up. His slightly hazy gaze held hers for a while before he turned to the driver.

'Trevor, pull off here,' he instructed and the car stopped. Logan looked back at her to meet her questioning look. 'Ace, how do you feel about sailing?'

* * *

...

_- Who the hell..._

_- Who do you think?_

_- Eh?_

_- Happy first snow!  
_

_- 's that you?  
_

_- No, it's Duran Duran. Of course it's me. What'cha doing?_

_- Mm, sleeping.  
_

_- Well, time to shake it up, old man, we're goin' out and making snow balls.  
_

_- Eh, no, we're not.  
_

_- We so _are_. Yay!  
_

_- ...  
_

_- C'mon, let me hear your enthusiasm: Yay!  
_

_- Huh.  
_

_- Enthusiasm! Yay! Now!  
_

_- Yay?_

___- That's right, old man. _Yay___. Now come on, I'm already outside. And bring the mittens I got you last Christmas. Boy, is it freezing..._

...

* * *

'You stole a yacht.' Stacy said agitatedly and breathed out through her nose, her knuckles going white over the steering wheel. 'Who did you think you were - _Catwoman_?'

Stacy started the engine and shook her head, continuing her rant.

'On New Year's Eve. Richie Rich _drunken called_ you and you _stole_ a yacht with him. On _New Year's Eve_. And you stole a _yacht_.'

'I remember, okay?' Rory grunted, crossing her hands before her chest like a five year old. Her head was starting to ache and it was hardly due to the champagne.

'Just wanted to make sure we're on the same page here,' Stacy huffed, steering her Honda out of the police department parking lot.

'And you were trying to do what, exactly?' Stacy continued fuming. 'I mean, _beside_ being stupid. _And_ beside making me quit a tasteless snobby party full of good-looking middle-aged, wealthy, single, tipsy men who find me incredibly attractive, thus making me miss a pretty good opportunity to get laid first thing this year? Not that any of those guys was my type, anyway, but this is _so_ not the point!'

There was something strangely comforting in Stacy's anger. A vague feeling of familiarity. Or maybe it was just the presumption that, maybe, she was so pissed off because she cared enough to.

It kind of calmed Rory down. She hung her head back, closing her eyes. Her head was dizzy.

'I miss her, Stace,' she admitted quietly.

'Oh, _don't_ pull the _Damsel in Distress_ act on me, sweetheart,' Stacy shook her head, narrowing her eyes, her temper still fiery.

Stacy continued driving in silence for about ten more minutes before her lips pursed into a thin straight line, in contemplation. Then she let out a sigh and spoke, her voice clear of annoyance.

'I feel like pie. You feel like pie?'

* * *

Jess rubbed the back of his head as he looked around the place.

Letting Matt organize a New Year's Eve party was a decision, made in a half-unconscious state, after too much wine and forced by the vague _'but dude, we're so gonna get laid'_ philosophy Matt preached after a couple of drinks.

Jess shook his head once before heading for the fire escape. He threw a quick glance back at the party where music was still blasting. They would have to clean the apartment for the rest of the vacation... that was, in case the apartment still existed as such, after the alien invasion Matt caused through inviting pretty much everyone from Ant Floor. There Chris was, waving Jess to 'come on back in', his move accompanied by a meaningful gesture towards a blonde chick who worked as a waitress in the cafeteria on the first floor of _Literati_, and then back towards Jess, mouthing '_so into you'_. He shook his head with a smirk and dug a cigarette out of his jeans pocket.

He lit and sat down on one of the metal steps after brushing the snow off with his foot. He took another slow drag, took the mobile out of his pocket and dialed.

The sound of a phone being picked. Pause.

Jess breathed the frosty air in. It had been snowing for a couple of hours now and there was a white puffy crust all over the streets.

'Jess?'

'Hey, man. Happy New Year, Luke.'

* * *

_..._

_- Can't you at least pretend you're a grown up?_

_- Oh, come on, you like that I'm quirky. And childish.  
_

_- No, I don't.  
_

_- Yes, you do. And you'll miss my quirkiness in case something terrible happens to me.  
_

_- Something terrible.  
_

_- Yeah. Like getting run over by a truck or, worse - running out of coffee.  
_

_- _Rright_. Anyway, just for the record, I do think you should go for the grown up thing.  
_

_- As long as you keep terrible things from happening, my very grown-up friend. Pour me some more coffee, will ya?  
_

_..._

* * *

'Rory?' Stacy asked narrowing her eyes, holding the big coffee mug before her lips.

'Yeah?' Rory asked absentmindedly without tearing her look away from the window, watching as snowflakes piled over the sill.

'I've been wondering.'

Intended to sound like an invitation for interrogation.

They made up a pretty interesting picture right now. Both in evening gowns, heels kicked to the side under the table, big coffee mugs in hands, an ex-managing director and her ex-secretary celebrating New Year's first morning in a cheap side of the road cafe.

'Yeah, Stace?' Rory turned to give her an '_all ears_' look.

Stacy took a sip before scooping a slice of Rory's pie with her fork and putting it into her mouth.

Rory rolled her eyes but followed suit, taking a bite herself.

'Do you have a thing for the Mariano guy?'

Rory coughed over a gulp of coffee.

'Excuse me?'

Stacy's hands crossed before her chest expectantly.

'You know, the James Dean wannabe who wrote a touching book and then got you crazy about lounging his second novel, right after which painted a dead body in the middle of your working area and then started accidentally bumping into you in the library,' she elaborated effortlessly.

'I didn't go crazy abo... We're not discussing this.'

'_You_'re not. I am,' Stacy pointed out. 'So, for how long have you been into him?'

'Stacy,' Rory sighed wearily, 'I'm not _into_ him. As guilty as that makes me feel for lacking any interesting news to share,' she added with a small smile.

'You know, I saw him shirtless once,' Stacy leaned conspiratorially over the table.

Rory rolled her eyes, shaking her head dismissively as she stirred her coffee.

'That printer on floor seven,' Stacy continued casually, resting back in her chair, 'the one that kept breaking down, one day I go into the room, hurrying to print that file and then BAM! I see the guy _lying_ under the devil machinery _shirtless_, holding a _screwdriver_, shirt tossed over the back of a chair, hair _messy_, _ink_ traces over his cheekbones and _all over_ his abs... gotcha!'

Rory snapped out of the trance she had unconsciously fallen into and licked a lip agitatedly.

'So into him,' Stacy sighed triumphantly.

'Shut up, Stace,' Rory made a dirty face.

'Come _on_, Ror, admit it, guy gives you chills,' Stacy insisted.

'It's not that. It's just... I think he's interesting, that's all,' she shrugged.

'Yeah. Whatever.'

'He's one guy in there I can talk to,' she explained patiently. 'Plus, _I_ wasn't the one _fantasizing_ about him with a screwdriver.'

Their looks met and both laughed.

'Come on,' Rory waved a hand and downed her coffee. 'Let's go home. I need sleep.'

They got up and headed for the exit a little discordantly, each concentrating on her own unsteady steps in the heels.

'Happy New Year, Stace,' Rory mumbled as they got out of the cafe, frosty air sending chills down the spine.

'Happy New Year, Ror.'

* * *

'All the junk I could carry with one hand, _Milady,_' Jess declared, dropping the bag on the table in front of her with one hand while balancing the two coffees in the other.

Rory lifted her eyebrows above her _Dumas_ copy questioningly and he jerked his head to the side, throwing his hands up in defense.

'There's enough in here to feed a little Chinese village,' he pointed out.

'Have you seen me eat?' she asked bluntly.

He rolled his eyes and took his usual place on the floor between two bookcases adjacent to the sofa (_his_ corner), grabbing one of the books from her pile on his way. There was this small book pile on the sofa next to her, most of the books already marked with colored sticky notes, showing out in between pages.

'You really think you can go through all of these until next Monday?' she half asked, half challenged.

Jess gave her a look.

She shook her head with a smile.

'Rright, _Your Grace_.' A catlike smile crept its way up her lips as she continued reading.

They read in silence for a while, only the sound of pages turning interrupting it every now and then. Then she spoke, trying her best to sound as casual as possible.

'You know that printer on floor seven?'

'Huh?'

'The one that's always broken,' she specified.

'Yeah, I tried to mend it once, but it's cursed,' he replied absentmindedly, turning another page.

'_Oh_.' Rory swallowed dryly.

'No, really. It's cursed,' he affirmed, casting her a quick glance over his book.

'Yeah. Yeah, sure.' She bit a lip and continued staring at the same sentence she had been reading over and over for the last couple of minutes.

'Huh,' Jess smirked, his eyes completely distracted from the_ Maupassant_ third edition in his hands.

'What?'

'You're squirming,' he quirked an eyebrow.

'I'm not!'

'Yeah, you are. Huh.'

He shook his head with an amused smirk.

'I don't think I ever saw you squirm. It's entertaining.'

'Oh, shut up.'

'Whatever you say, _boss_,' he shrugged, even more amused than before.

'Very soon, my sarcastic pal, I will be your boss again. Only a matter of time,' she explained with a flair of importance that didn't impress him very much.

'Sure.'

'Excuse me?' she put her book on the table noisily. 'I am taking Literati back.'

'And that's how her reign resurrected,' he nodded in mock appreciation.

Suddenly she wasn't joking anymore, her temper switched from amused to agitated. He left his book aside and rose to his feet, watching her.

'You know what? It's fine,' she had started pacing to and fro round the coffee table. 'Believe me. Don't believe me. But once I kick some asses, you're gonna be begging me for access to this library.'

'God forbid I ever cross your way with the wrong foot, Mistress,' he countered in cold sarcasm, his eyes observing her intently.

He knew something was going on. It wasn't about _Literati_ they were arguing right now, but he had no clue what it was about. Something was pushing him to find out.

'Yeah, like I really need lecturing by someone who never tried to launch higher than writing short novels secretly,' she snapped.

'And you've got it all sorted out,' he replied calmly. 'I suppose, if you really wanna run a place like this, a police record is kinda needed.'

She turned to look at him, her eyes a troubled blue. The color of a fresh bruise.

'What's wrong with you?' she asked, her jaw tight.

'What's going on, Rory?' he held her gaze steadily.

She shifted uncomfortably.

'What do you mean, what's going on?'

'I mean with you. What's going on with you?'

'Nothing.'

Arms crossed before her chest self-consciously.

'You know what?' she looked up at him, her expression determined. 'I'm not having this conversation.'

He shook his head at her leaving form.

* * *

_~Seven Years Ago~_

_- What are we gonna do, Luke?_

_- Eh?_

_- Now. What are we gonna do?_

_A sigh. Nodding at people leaving with compassionate expressions on their faces._

_- I'm gonna go open the diner._

_Beat of silence._

_- ... It will make you feel better?_

_Uncertainty. Hope. How do you tell a kid that you have no clue?_

_- I don't think so. But... it's something to do._

_- Yeah. I think you're right._

_- Wanna come have coffee or anything?_

_- No... No, thanks, I better finish packing, my grandma is waiting._

* * *

'Why are you doing this?'

'Huh?'

'Why are you doing this, Jess?' Matt repeated, his crystal blue eyes piercing Jess'. 'And don't come up with some _we're kinda family_ bullshit.'

'I wasn't going to.'

'Good.' Matt crossed his hands before his chest expectantly. 'So?'

'I...'

'Yes?'

'I... don't know.' Jess sighed, lost for words. 'I just... wanted to, I guess.'

Matt nodded slowly.

'Just, be careful, okay? From what I know, Gilmores don't have friends. I wouldn't want to see you tangled, man.'

Jess shrugged a shoulder.

'Lucky me, then. Cause I _never_ get tangled.'

* * *

_... Monday finds you like a bomb _  
_that's been left ticking there too long, _  
_you're bleeding..._

There was cotton candy and lollipops. And ice-cream. Lots of ice-cream. On a stick. In cones. Tons of ice-cream. People were eating, talking and laughing. There was loud music. Lorelai's music. Florence and the Machine, Oasis, Eurythmix, Blondie, Goo Goo Dolls, Van Halen, Radiohead, it was like one of Stars Hollow's naive, almost ridiculous, heartwarming festivals. With snowmen. Snowwomen. Snowkids. Snowanimals. People talking while drinking hot tea and eating cotton candy.

February, 2nd. Winter Festival. Seven years since Lorelai was gone. Rory looked around. Her throat tightened and, for once, she didn't care everyone could see she was crying.

Next to one of the cotton candy pavilions, Jess was talking to Chris. When their eyes met, his expression tensed. He bit a lip and breathed out, his eyes cautiously seeking her reaction. A muscle over his jaw twitched as he watched her approach.

Every step felt heavy, her feet stiff. A tear rolled down her cheek, then another.

_Okay, jerk, you managed to make her cry, happy now?_

'Jess, the delivery guy wants to talk to you...'

'Not now,' he waved Chris off.

She was walking towards him, the blue of her eyes unusually glittery, the shine of a knife before a deathly stab. He expected the stingy slap any second now. What the hell had he been thinking?

'Look, Ror...' he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.

He trailed off when she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

_... There's a hurting thing inside _  
_and I've got everything to hide. _  
_You're breathing..._

'She would have loved it,' Rory whispered and before he could say anything in reply, she was walking away. Jess lifted a hand to touch the place where her lips had just left a salty trace.

_... Hey, Hey, I saved the world today... _  
_And everybody's happy now, _  
_The bad thing's gone away..._

* * *

_..._

_I'm drifting in and out of consciousness, in and out of tune, in and out of life. Sometimes talking to you is the only way I can hear my thoughts._ _You were always so shred of life, that it's like your gravity keeps me going. It doesn't make sense without you, though. _

_The moment that it all stops. The moment I forget how to be myself without you, that's when it all ends. I haven't reached that moment yet.  
_

_Those words I never said back then, I thought them. I... someday I may write a book, and in the book... in the book I'll say them. I promise.  
_

_...  
_

* * *

Rory Gilmore closed her eyes.

_You told me tales of love and glory_  
_Same old sad songs, same old story_  
_The sirens sing no lullaby_  
_And no-one knows but Lorelei_

She let her head sink deeper into the pillow and let a deep breath out.

_I've thought of you in far-off places_  
_I've puzzled over lipstick traces_  
_So help me god, I will not cry_  
_And then I think of Lorelei_

* * *

In a small town, more than 120 miles away, a middle-aged man in flannel and baseball hat swept the snow off his diner's doormat.

_If I should float upon this stream_  
_And see you in my madman's dream_  
_I'd sink into your troubled eyes_  
_And none would know 'cept Lorelei_

* * *

Back in New York, a dark-haired man was typing wildly, his fingers hitting the keys of his ancient _Corona_ typewriter faster than the speed with which snowflakes, tossed by the strong gust of February wind, were piling against his window sill.

_But if my ship, which sails tomorrow_  
_Should crash against these rocks,_  
_My sorrows I will drown before I die_  
_It's you I'll see, not Lorelei_

* * *

'Hey.'

'Hey.'

'You saw Mitchum's memoirs? _Memoirs of a Lion._ Jesus.'

Jess shook his head and rubbed the back of his nape, turning another page of the book.

'Thing's hilarious, my cheeks already sting with laughter. Should've read it back then, but never suspected it could be given credit for being a masterpiece. Only title's bit wrong, I think they misspelled _weasel_. Anyway, you should check it out, it's completely...'

Rory made a step forward, palms pressing flat against his chest as her lips found his, shutting him up effectively. Initiating the kiss rather by instinct at first, she let herself sink into the feeling of his lips against hers and his heartbeat speeding under her palms, a silent confession she made to her own surprise.

It took his mind a moment to click into gear and realize what was happening, but the realization evoked electric jolts down his spine and he answered the kiss. Slowly, with the tantalizing rhythm of a shy new beginning. _Memoirs of a Lion_ slipped between his fingers as he shifted his hands to her sides, the book landing with a muffled thud over the carpet.

When their eyes opened, her pupils were dilated, hazy blue, lips still slightly parted. He watched her speechless, his breathing a bit heavy.

Her fingertips burnt with the heat his skin emitted, or maybe it was only her. They stared at each other blindly for a while before she lifted her palms from his chest to cover her lips.

'Oh my god,' she swallowed.

Maybe, if she wasn't so surprised by what just happened, she would have seen a shift in his eyes. If she wasn't afraid of the tight sour feeling in her own chest, she would've seen how vulnerable he seemed when he took a ragged breath to say her name.

'Rory...'

'Don't say a word,' she shook her head and turned away.

'O-okay,' Jess mumbled, his look still transfixed as he watched her run away.

He blinked a couple of times, staring into the place where she had just been. Then he stuck both hands deep in his pockets and stepped backwards until his back hit the library wall.

* * *

_..._

_- Do you think this is different?_

_- This?  
_

_- _This_. __Us._**_  
_**

_- Aah, _**this**_. Well, that's a tricky question._

_- Oh?_

_- Whatever I say, won't be the right thing to say.  
_

_- _Oh_.  
_

_- Here, see? Like I said, tricky question.  
_

_- You know what, old man? _**This**_ is like opening my eyes once. And then opening them _again_.  
_

_- Huh?  
_

_- When I'm with you, I open my eyes twice. And there's just... more. My world gets more... _detailed, _I guess__. I like that.  
_

_- Close your eyes.  
_

_- Eh?  
_

_- Close your eyes.  
_

_- O-kay...  
_

_- I... I think I'm in love with you._

_...  
_

* * *

**Song lyrics used: 'I Saved the World Today' by _Eurythmix_; 'Lorelai' by _The Pogues_.**_  
_

**Telling me what you think would make me really happy!  
**


	6. A Rainbow

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. I'm poor, etc.

**Summary**: Rory Gilmore has been running her grandfather's publishing house for a year now. She is surprised when she gets a phone call by her mother's ex-boyfriend Luke who asks her a certain favor. Starting from there, her life starts to alter rapidly. AU

A/N: You wouldn't be reading this, if it weren't for** LitLove**, who inspired it, and especially for my wonderful beta -** Ara May**, who has been supporting it all along. Thank you, ladies! **Dear Ara**, you make all of this worth it!**  
**

* * *

_..._

_A heart is always in a cage. Anatomically, it's a simple fact laid in the basics of human nature. Brain's in a box, heart's in a cage. Programmed in our drive, we're born with it. As simple as that.  
_

_...  
_

* * *

'I kissed Jess.'

Stacy's lips paused in a silent "O".

'And then ran away.'

'_Aw_.'

'Aw? That's all you have to say? _Aw_? You've been ragging me about him for weeks and now all you have to say is _'Aw'_?'

'Well, I didn't really expect to be right, I guess. What does young Kerouac think of it?'

Rory shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Uncrossing her legs. Then crossing them again. Bargaining with her own conscience.

'I... I don't know. I've been avoiding him ever since.'

Stacy laughed in disbelief.

'How is that possible? You're practically working in the same room.'

Rory sighed and bit a lip.

'Jeez. I kissed Jess. It's so wrong.'

Stacy refilled their mugs with coffee.

'Mhm, it's a bit naughty.'

Rory shook her head, ignoring the pointed look Stacy was giving her.

'He reminds me of her, Stace.'

Stacy's brows lifted and her hand paused in the air, holding the coffee jug. Rory wasn't looking at her, though. She was talking more to herself than to anyone in particular.

'_Mom_. He reminds me of mom.'

'Well, sweets, now _this _is _wrong_.'

Rory's look was still fixed somewhere beyond the wall of Stacy's kitchen when she continued.

'He makes me feel...' Rory made an indefinite gesture with her arm in the air and shook her head. 'When she was... When I'm around him, I feel so... _alive_.'

'_Oh_.'

'He sees Lorelai in me,' Rory concluded, as if this was one single fact, explaining all universe mysteries.

'But, hon, you _are_ Lorelai.'

Rory looked up , snapping out of her inward contemplation, and her eyes resembled seawater before a storm when she swallowed hard and mumbled.

'Exactly.'

* * *

She paused to look at him (first time she allowed herself to, for the last two weeks) in disbelief, her hands frozen, palms turned up as she waited for the printer to get the sheets out.

'Is that... is that a _hickey_ on your neck?'

He touched his neck, feigning embarrassment.

'Nope.'

'Yeah, sure.' She rolled her eyes.

Then his expression got cocky and he quirked an eyebrow.

'I bit myself. Shaving,' he explained casually and passed her by on his way out.

'Jeez,' she shook her head, appalled. 'Just how old are you?'

Sheets began to come out in her hands, warming her palms.

He didn't turn back to grant her with a reply and she threw him a sour look, biting a lip as she watched him leave.

* * *

'She's a bit boring,' Chris mused over his pizza, watching as the short blonde waitress passed between the tables and headed for the counter where Jess was sitting over one of the high stools.

Matt put his tea on the table with an indignant expression.

'What's wrong with you, man? She's _fine_.'

Chris made a face as they watched the curvy blonde leave the tray over the counter and put her hands round Jess' neck, giving him a long kiss on the lips, pressing herself flush against him.

'No, wait,' Matt shook his head and snapped his fingers, 'She's more than fine, she's _gorgeous_.'

Chris just rolled his eyes.

'Oh, come _on, _Chris,' Matt's expression suddenly turned serious. 'You know he was getting himself into deep water there. He's better off this way.'

Chris threw another look towards the counter where Jess' hands were traveling down her lower back, sliding into the back pockets of her jeans, and sighed in defeat.

'She does have great boobs,' he shrugged and concentrated back on his pizza.

'That's my man,' Matt smirked, giving Chris an approving nod.

No man deserved to be played with. Especially if he was about to become the toy of a Gilmore. At least that was Matt's opinion.

* * *

She was hurrying towards her car, maneuvering on her high heels between the other cars. She hated those heels. They were only worth a tool for self-defense. The right leash was killing her ankle.

She pressed the unlock button of the car remote and sighed with relief at the thought of the comfortable seat of her _Avensis_. The alarm greeted her with a friendly beep and right then she stumbled into someone.

'Excuse me... Oh, _great,_' she sighed as her eyes fixed a dark-haired young man in light blue jeans and a black leather jacket.

'Were you calling me?' Jess asked straight, making a step forward so that their eyes leveled.

'What?'

'Come on, Rory, yes or no? Were you calling me and then keeping silent?' his eyes narrowed and flashed a warning to not lie to him. She ignored it.

'You're delusional,' she cut him off and tried to make her way past him, but he put a hand on the car hood to her left, blocking her way.

She gave him a sharp look.

'Move away.'

'Am I making you nervous?' he challenged.

'Oh, _please_.'

'You've been avoiding me.'

'No, I haven't.'

'Why?'

'Why haven't I been avoiding you?' she crossed her hands before her chest, playing dumb. 'Jeez, I don't know, should I have a reason?' she challenged back.

He ignored her show, his chin tensing as he leaned forward. She winced involuntarily, feeling the vague smell of anger and his cologne brush her receptors.

'Why did you kiss me?'

Her lips pursed into a thin white line.

'Why did you throw this year's Winter Festival?' she asked instead of a reply.

Something in his eyes shifted and they turned a shade warmer as he sighed,

'I've been trying to talk to you.'

Who could tell his voice could lose its edge so quickly. She felt her heart speed up, her eyes easily drowning in the eye lock, but then chastised herself mentally. This, whatever it was, wasn't going anywhere.

'Well, you couldn't have, having Bambie plastered over your mouth,' she snapped and pushed him away, using his distraction to go past him and make her way to the car.

She got in and slammed the door closed, ignoring the slight trembling of her hands as she started the engine. In the rear view mirror she caught a glimpse of him standing behind the car, something like a smirk playing over his face. _Oh, damn him._ She licked a lip agitatedly, trying to get her composure back. _Okay, nothing's happened._ _Just get out of here. Now.  
_

She pulled out of her parking place slowly, but then her foot slipped, the goddamn right leash tearing apart before she regained her position over the brakes. A muffled thud coming from the back of the car made her blood freeze, her currently shoeless right foot firm over the brakes for another couple of seconds before she regained the ability to move.

Then she ran out of the car, blood pounding wildly in her ears.

'_Jess_!' she knelt next to him. 'Jess... Jesus...'

'Hell, Rory, what were you try... _shit_,' he made a painful grimace as he tried to stand up and rubbed his left hip. 'You really know how to make a point, eh?' he added, deciding on a half sitting position, leaning onto his right arm.

'I'll call an ambulance,' Rory said, already dialing.

He lifted a hand in protest.

'Jeez, no. I'm fine.'

'You're hurt.'

'I'll live,' he grunted impatiently.

She looked at him with her eyes wide, as if in disbelief. Jess moved to a sitting position, suppressing a groan as he moved his right foot to a bend next to the left.

'See?' he asked, nodding towards his feet. 'You'll have to try again.'

She stared at him strangely, blindly, her eyes a deep, unblinking blue, and bit her lip.

'I'm sorry.'

'Huh.'

He couldn't decide if he was more irritated or amused by this statement. He was ready to smirk when he noticed how watery her eyes actually were.  
'Jeez, I'm so sorry,' she uttered before she turned her head to the side and covered her mouth with her wrist, suppressing a sob unsuccessfully.

Jess' eyebrows knit and he stared at her for a couple of seconds, unable to figure out what was happening. Well, she was crying, that was one thing. And she wasn't putting up a show, he decided.

'Hey...' he moved to sit closer to where she was kneeling, one foot in a heel, the other one bare. A lost Cinderella. 'Hey, Rory, come on.'

He lifted a hand and hesitated for a second before moving her hair out of the way, so that it uncovered her face.

'Rory, look at me.'

She was shaking, both hands covering her mouth, one over the other. Jeez, she was losing it, right there.

Jess wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel more amused or worried by her sudden change of demeanor. He decided on just being surprised and tried to level her eyes.

'Rory, come on,' he said in a gentler voice.

As he didn't get her attention, he draped an arm over her shaking shoulders and was surprised at the ease with which she submitted to his touch, leaning into his half embrace.

A bit awkwardly, he lifted his left arm to close around her, as well, swallowing her sobs within his wider frame.

'I'm so sorry,' she shook against his chest.

'I know,' he said, one hand moving by its own will to soothe her hair.

'I lied,' she admitted, in a voice that belonged to a much, _much_ younger version of her. 'I was calling you.'

'I know,' he smiled against her hair. She smelled like cookies and chocolate. Maybe vanilla and cedarwood. Or maybe she had just visited a bakery shop during lunch break.

He felt some twisted kind of comfort, with her sudden fall of guard, suddenly so open and vulnerable.

'It's okay,' he whispered in her hair and swayed her soothingly. 'It's okay.'

* * *

'What's with your mom, anyway?' Rory asked, going between the lines of bookshelves, taking a book and then putting it back in its place absentmindedly.

Jess was following her, holding a _Les Miserables_ copy in his hands.

'Nothing,' he dismissed her question, turning another page.

'Yeah. Sure,' she moved her mouth to the side, taking another book, then returning it. If he didn't want to talk, he wouldn't. She knew him long enough to know at least that much.

'No, I mean it,' he shook his head, although she couldn't really see him.

She stopped walking and he stopped, too, almost bumping into her, lifting his eyes questioningly. Pure innocence.

_I mean it._

He meant it.

'When it comes to her, it's all filled with blanks, so _nothing_ is with her,' he shrugged, keeping the lock.

She drilled into his eyes for a while. As always, he held her gaze. Strange thing, whenever she decided to scrutinize him, she ended up being scrutinized herself. She wanted to test him, but somehow always ended up testing herself.

'I will if you will.'

_You really meant it, eh?_

'Huh?'

'I'll go see my mom if you go see yours,' she repeated, crossing her hands before her chest.

For some reason, whenever it came to him, she wanted to cut deep.

Jess blinked bluntly a couple of times before sinking back into the book in his hands, walking past her like she hadn't said anything, like she wasn't in the library at all.

'I thought so,' she concluded coldly after watching him for a couple of seconds.

His back lacked any kind of response.

She nodded once and left the library, trying to feel triumphant, but somehow failing and feeling sad instead.

* * *

_'It terrifies me that I may feel this unhappy. Again. What I... when she... It still hurts so damn much. You would think that, with time, pain will get smaller. But it doesn't. It's a dull feeling that's always there, and it's consuming... to a level where you stop feeling joy or sadness, like, in order to move on, you become colorblind. Until one day someone shows you a rainbow. And I... I don't wanna go through this again. Through any part of it. I can't, Stace. I just can't.'_

* * *

A _The Killers_ CD was on as he turned the key and ignited the engine.

Rory's look was lost out of the window, deep in thought. She hadn't said a word ever since she saw him stop his ancient Chevy before her on the parking lot. She had climbed in without asking questions, knowing exactly where they were going even before he headed for the highway.

_... I'm coming out of my cage _  
_ And I've been doing just fine..._

She turned to look at him. His fingers were absentmindedly tapping over the wheel in time with the music. Her eyes paused on his lips, he was unconsciously moving them without actually singing along, while she was unconsciously reminiscing what they tasted like.

_... It started out with a kiss _  
_ How did it end up like this_...

She winced but he was so concentrated on the road and his own thoughts that she doubted he was actually paying any attention to the song. Or to her presence on the passenger seat.

Funny thing, what would he be thinking right now? Why was he taking this ride with her? Was he just bored, looking for a thrill? Maybe. But, then again, maybe she was, too. Hell, her life had always been so ordered, so set on achieving her life goals, bound to make things the way she had planned to, that it was making her sick. While he, in turn, didn't seem to have a plan at all. No big dream, no tomorrow in his calculations. His plans stretched no further than the present moment. No day but today. No other word but his own. It annoyed and thrilled her at the same time.

... _I pack my case. I check my face._  
_ I look a little bit older._  
_ I look a little bit colder..._

Rory bit a lip, chasing the daydream away. She moved her look away from him, feeling a crimson red creep up her cheeks, and looked out of the window.

'_It's a dull feeling that's always there, and it's consuming... to a level where you stop feeling joy or sadness, like, in order to move on, you become colorblind. Until one day someone shows you a rainbow._'

_... I caught my stride._  
_ I flew and flied._  
_ I know if destiny's kind, I've got the rest of my mind._  
_ But my heart, it don't beat, it don't beat the way it used to..._

_'It terrifies me that I may feel this unhappy. Again.'_

Rory turned to the side, closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.

* * *

'I think she would want me to talk to her.'

He was a bit surprised to hear her voice. They had driven in silence for the last two hours and he thought she must have fallen asleep.

'She loved talking so much... we both did. Think she would've wanted me to talk to her.' Rory continued her unexpected confession.

Jess continued to drive, his look steadily fixed ahead while in fact he was listening intently.

'Luke...' she continued, drawing a breath in for courage, 'he talks to her, doesn't he?'

His brows knit.

'Your book,' she explained.

Jess nodded and she bit a lip.

'He okay?'

Jess' eyebrows flew up.

_Really? After seven years, you're suddenly worried about Luke's emotional state?_

He threw her a sideways glance and let a sigh out. Who was he to judge, anyway?

'He's okay,' he informed vaguely.

'You know, they used to be so Curly and Laurie,' Rory smiled, reminiscing. 'We would hang in the Diner for hours, pretending to be starving.'

'Hey, I thought a Gilmore was always starving.'

'And what was the initial reason for that, do you think?'

'Huh.'

'And Luke would pull that gruff face, his serious busy look, you know? And pretend that we were either invisible or beyond obnoxious, sometimes both, huh, but one day, when we didn't go to the Diner for breakfast, Luke materialized on the porch, bringing us lunch, cause there was so much food anyway, you know, he didn't want it to go to waste, it was a shame, after all, when half of the world suffered starvation, blah-blah.'

'Sounds like him,' Jess smirked knowingly.

'Why are you only nice to me?' she asked suddenly. His gaze didn't waver, fixed on the road just as before.

'Excuse me?'

'You're nice to me. Why?' she wouldn't give up so easily.

It had been raining. The pavement was still wet. He shrugged nonchalantly.

'I'm a people person, I like to see everyone happy.'

'_Please_.'

'Now _this _is not a nice thing to say, Miss Gilmore,' he mock chastised her.

She bit back a smile.

'Plus,' he pulled up a self-content smirk, 'you're the only _almost cousin_ I've had so far, so I figured it couldn't hurt too much to be decent.'

'Huh,' she crossed her arms before her chest, '_and_ your _soon to be your boss again_.'

'Yeah, that too. Almost slipped my mind.'

'I figured.'

'Huh,' he bent to look at something through the window.

'What?' she leaned forward, trying to follow his gaze.

'A rainbow,' he pointed to their left, where a rainbow had anchored into the lawns.

Her smile stilled on her lips just as they passed by the **'Welcome to Stars Hollow'** sign to her right, feeling caught by surprise. She had almost forgotten they were coming here. Almost.

* * *

**I have no idea what you think about this... unless you let me know. Please?**


	7. Eyes Closed

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. I'm poor, etc.

**Summary**: Rory Gilmore has been running her grandfather's publishing house for a year now. She is surprised when she gets a phone call by her mother's ex-boyfriend Luke who asks her a certain favor. Starting from there, her life starts to alter rapidly. AU

A/N: You wouldn't be reading this, if it weren't for** LitLove**, who inspired it, and especially for my INCREDIBLY GORGEOUS beta -** Ara May**, who has been supporting it all along. **THANK YOU, LADIES:)  
**

* * *

_'Temperatures are running low tonight, so be prepared to spend the weekend at home. Heavy snowfalls are to be expected in the next twenty-four hours. Did you prepare your car for tough weather? Now, Mr Doose is here to give us a couple of useful tips on winter driving. Stay with Waves of Stars Hollow late emission and learn all about...'_

Late emission. At eight thirty.

_ Welcome to Stars Hollow._

Jess turned the radio off and clicked his tongue.

'Nah, last time I was around, driving through snow was among Top of the Tops in Taylor's Stars Hollow Ban List. Guy must be feeling adventurous these days,' he smirked.

He turned to give Rory a brief glance. She had been keeping silent since the moment they passed by the _Welcome to Stars Hollow_ sign. He checked her face. Staring out of the window, her expression was blank. Stoically blank. The kind of blankness you refuse to fill, shut it up, bottle it in, keep a straight face when you're actually cringing. He wasn't aware what it actually looked like until he read it over her face, but he knew exactly what it _felt_ like. This expression he would've recognized miles away, the way he would discern good from filthy literature after reading only a paragraph. Sometimes less.

Taking a ride through Stars Hollow, you were never alone. There were always one too many memories to keep you company.

He looked ahead again. It was getting dark and rare raindrops were falling against the windscreen, making Jess smirk at the thought of Taylor's most likely words at this very moment, something like _'Citizens of Stars Hollow, at every turn, Holy Mother Nature makes sure to remind us that whenever we try to violate Her divine rules, we are doomed to failure. Today is no exception...'_ etc. etc.

Geez, how had he managed to spend almost two years of his conscious life in this creepy joke of a town, pretty much worth a whole _Poe _ short story?

He steered the Chevy towards the Gilmore house.

* * *

Rory stepped out onto the muddy lawn, her eyes steadily fixed on the house.

Jess locked the car and climbed on the sidewalk, hands in pockets, trying not to stare. He would've hated it, roles switched, had someone violated his privacy in a moment like this. Not that he had ever been the kind of guy to hold a bunch of special sacred memories truly dear to his heart to return to. No, he had developed a certain spite for all those emotional commitments to places you've been, people you've met. People were people and places were places. Period.

Well, at least most of them were.

Jess scratched the back of his neck and looked up. The rare raindrops had turned into snowflakes, tiny and lazy to fall against the ground and fast to melt as soon as they touched it.

Rory started walking towards the porch, a bit unsteadily at first, but gaining confidence in each step. He followed.

* * *

_'I think we have a winner.'_

_'We do? Really? Gosh, I'm really excited. I'm Twin Peaks kind of excited. No, wait, that means I'm a little scared, too, but I am. Oh boy, my baby's not a baby anymore, and I'm scared, I'm super scared. And excited. But more scared. I think I'll have a seat.'_

_'Mom. You're hyperventilating.'_

_'Me? Never. Have you **ever **known me to overreact?'_

_'Mom, I think it's Yale.'_

_'Wow.'_

_'Good 'wow' or bad 'wow'?'_

_'Is this what you want, hon?'_

_'Yes.'_

_'You sure about it?'_

_'Yes!'_

_'One hundred percent sure?'_

_'Yes!'_

_'Then it's a good 'wow', sweets, it's a big, neon flashing, thickly highlighted 'WOW' with music playing and tiny little angelic figures dancing at the base. I'm so proud of you, grasshopper.'_

* * *

He knew his way around the house. She could tell. The way he took the spare key from its place under the flowerpot on the porch, the easy movement of his hand as he reached for the corridor light. He had been here before. More than once.

She looked around the living room. Except for the sheets spread wide over the furniture, you wouldn't tell that no one had entered this house for seven years. Because someone _had_.

She turned to look at Jess and he lowered his eyes a little.

'Luke. Once a month, makes sure it's all right around here,' he trailed off, not really sure how much he was supposed to tell. Spider web and leaking tap jokes seemed very, _very_ out of place right now.

'Will you wait for me outside?' she asked in a polite but cold tone. A tone that supposed submission. _Managing director Gilmore, nice to meet you._

Jess' eyes shifted between her and the living room once more before he gave her a nod.

'Sure.'

On his way out he slowed pace but decided against looking back. It was none of his business.

* * *

He was smoking on the porch, elbows resting on the wooden rail as he watched snowflakes whirl and pile over his ancient Chevy.

The car was kept together only by an old habit, but he'd well cut his own arm before even thinking of selling it. It was his first (and only) car, first (and maybe only) thing he had achieved all by himself.

He had written a book, then. He had done as much. _Luke's book_, as it appeared in his mind. It was an unspoken debt he covered, writing this. Words he would never master the courage to say out loud. Details he would never admit he had noticed. Acknowledgement Luke would never ask for. But he had been there. All that time. Watching. Listening.

* * *

_'You know what? I'm done. I'm outta here.'_

_'Oh, really? And where are you gonna go, Braveheart?'_

_'Wherever.'_

_'Yeah? Doing what, exactly?'_

_'Whatever.'_

_'Sounds like a great plan to me.'_

_'Jeez, has it ever occurred to you that not everyone has to have a grandiose life plan to follow? That some of us maybe just don't care about running around, fixing leaking roofs in people's houses? You're living with this illusion that everything can be fixed, but guess what - it can't. Some things just can't be fixed, and the more you push, the worse they get.'_

_'You mean **you** can't be fixed.'_

_'I mean she's not coming back, Luke. You can fix her roof as much as you can, she's not...'_

_Slap! _

_Pause._

_ Breathe in._

_ Breathe out.  
_

_'You know what? You're right. She's not coming back. She went out for a ride, it had been snowing, the road was frosted and the truck brakes didn't catch. She's not coming back. She didn't have a choice. You do. I'm offering you to help you fix your mess, as long as you keep trying to fix it. You made a start but you're so sure you're not worth it, you've been running around telling me I'm wasting my time. Are you wasting my time, Jess? _Are you_?'_

_Silence. Breathe in. Breathe out.  
_

_'Good... And, Jess? There is ice under the sink.'_

* * *

He was torn out of his contemplation by the sound of a door opening. He turned back to get a glimpse of her profile as she left the front door open before disappearing back into the house. Not a word. Definitely not an invitation to come on and get in, but, some semblance of a permission.

_If you insist._

He finished his smoke and put it out in the snow before he entered the house.

* * *

'Here,' she brought a pile of blankets and dropped them over the sofa. 'I'm taking the sofa, you're taking the cot.'

'Am I?' he quirked an eyebrow. 'Very hospitable.'

Rory shrugged while stretching the camp bed, fighting one of the bed-springs in the process.

'Jeez,' he let out an amused chuckle as he watched her pant over the bed frame. 'I should've brought pop tarts,' he added, doing nothing to escape the annihilating look she gave him.

'Move,' he leaned next to her, taking the bed frame from her hands.

She was taken by surprise by the patronizing undertone of his voice and hesitated for a moment, holding on to the bed. A mixture of cigarettes, his cologne and the close proximity of his body made her almost jump away mere seconds later.

'Here,' he moved his hand in an inviting gesture, 'your boudoir is awaiting.'

'_Your_ boudoir, actually,' she corrected and let herself a self-content smile while dragging a heater between the sofa and the camp bed.

'Huh.'

He smirked and helped her carry the heater the rest of the way. Her nose wrinkled in irritation.

'I've got it.'

His smirk grew wider and he quirked an eyebrow.

'Do you ever accept help?' he asked, clearly amused.

'It never pays off,' she shrugged curtly and started spreading the blankets over the sofa.

Jess watched her for another moment before following suit and starting to make his own bed.

* * *

Rory turned around, her attention drawn by the muffled sound of a body shifting. She switched the night lamp on, presuming Jess had woken up, but when she looked at him, he was lying on his back and his eyes were still closed. He stirred again. He was dreaming.

She swung her feet over the sofa and leaned forward on her palms, studying his face.

Eyes closed, Jess' features looked softer. Her gaze paused over the two-day stubble over his chin. Normally, in the office, she would always tease him for not caring to join the civilized world by shaving on a regular basis, while in fact she was lying. She thought it suited him. She _liked_ how it suited him. Which might well have been the initial reason why she wanted him to shave it off right away.

His arm moved to rest over his abs while the other one was lying over his thigh, slightly flexed at the elbow.

Rory smiled, finding this to be the kind of endearing cliche that somehow always gets to you, no matter how sleazy you believe it actually is, watching someone sleep. Of course, some people considered it creepy. For a good reason, that was.

His face shifted. Then again. Fast, like different emotions competing over his features, he went from off to on. His mind wasn't resting. It was speeding.

He was having a dream, the kind of dreams you live through.

His face started shifting in all those emotions she never thought would play over his features while awake, so expressive and easy to read. First, he was talking to - no, listening to someone. Then he winced and the way his face changed made her think of a young boy crying. She carefully moved to kneel down next to the camp bed. His face had adopted an expression of deep concentration that somehow felt out of place.

For some reason it occurred to her that he might be reliving a memory.

Before she had realized, she was moving her hand, her palm finding his cheek, gently cupping halfway his face. Surprised at her own reaction, Rory froze for a second, fearing he might wake up, but he didn't. His features started to gradually relax against her palm, slightly grazing her skin in the process, and so did Rory, feeling some strange nuance of pride at the effect she had produced.

* * *

_'We are so proud of you, dear! Another Gilmore in Yale.'_

_'Actually, it's gonna be Harvard Kennedy.'_

_'But, darling, I thought you picked Yale.'_

_'Nope.'_

_'Rory, are you sure? Last time we spoke about this, your mom said...'_

_'Richard...'_

_'I'm sure, grandpa.'_

_'But Harvard is twice as far and...'_

_'It's gonna be Harvard, grandpa.'_

_'Oh. Okay, dear.'_

* * *

Rory woke up in semi darkness. She got off the bed and went next to the window.

Big snowflakes were piling against the windowsill. Her hand rested over the back of chair beside her, enjoying the cold glazed surface of the wood as her fingertips drew a line along the rail.

She felt something move behind her. He had woken up. She waited.

His hand rested on the chair top-rail, next to hers. Close but not enough to touch. A lingering presence.

_You're dreaming..._  
_Or at least you've got your eyes closed_

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. Cigarettes, cologne and something she couldn't define but felt distinctly. Maybe the warmth his body emitted. Or the radiance of his gaze upon her back, making electricity run down her spine and then spread all the way to her toes.

_And this dormant love you've built inside your stubborn ways,_  
_Well its begging now, for air..._

She knew it was her decision to make. He had left it to her to choose if she wanted this to mean anything, if she wanted it to _be_ anything. She had this decided for some time now, she realized. But the decision had been lying buried down under layers of pride and fear, waiting for a chance to emerge.

Her hand inched closer, a finger landing timidly over his thumb. She could feel him stiffen and then relax behind her before he stepped closer, his fingers intertwining with hers.

_You pull back (pull back) and you angle towards the window..._  
_Now the rain is crashing down,_  
_And oh my god, you're beautiful..._

His palm was warm against the back of her hand and it conducted some kind of relief. She couldn't name the exact reason for that, maybe it was simply the fact that holding hands felt nice and neither of them had turned into ashes. Yet.

He reached for her right hand, as well, lacing their fingers together, then brought it around her, mirroring the gesture with the left, so that their hands were embracing her on both sides now. Rory let herself relax back against his chest, feeling a bit lightheaded, sensing the warmth of her own palms against her abs, her fingers covered by his.

She felt the shift of his chest as he breathed in. His breath was slower, deeper, this time. Taking the scent of her hair in and keeping it for a while. She smiled. This naive, unconscious gesture made her think of a shy dark-haired boy, trying to savor the moment, and this thought made her bolder. She turned around in his embrace and reached for his elbow, drawing him closer as her lips brushed his.

_And I'm so unsated, still I pray you'll hold back your escape..._

It took him a moment to respond and lift his palm against her cheek, trying to hold on to her as if that would make the moment last. She smiled into the kiss and pressed herself flush against his chest, suddenly impatient to get closer.

_And in my mind these bends could be steered straight..._

Her palms sneaked under the cotton of his tee and hungrily explored the taut skin underneath, enjoying the way his muscles shifted under her touch.

A knot in her chest untied, while a dozen in his stomach tied up.

He turned them around, steering her backwards until her back hit the wall. She let out a delighted whimper.

'_Rory_...' his voice sounded distant through a blissful haze.

'Mmm,' she purred, her thumbs hooking over the waistband of his jeans, pulling him closer.

'Rory, wake up.'

She opened her eyes, squinting into the light, suddenly feeling as if she had been taken out of a hot tub and thrown into ice. Jess was leaning over her, his expression an uncharacteristic mixture of confusion and concern.

'You were dreaming,' he explained shortly, meeting her baffled eyes as he continued to study her face.

_What?. But you were... and we were... Oooh booy. _

Rory rubbed her eyelids with thumb and forefinger.

'Can you turn down the light? Or are you planning on making me blind or something?'

'Huh,' he huffed, regaining his usual nonchalant demeanor, and stood up to turn off the light.

_She doesn't like being helped. Checked._

'You were making those strange noises,' he explained before switching the light off. 'I thought you were having a nightmare,' he shook his head and lay back on the camp bed.

She stared at his outline, fighting the haze in her own head.

_A nightmare. Sure. Wanna bet?_

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, fixing his back. He had turned to the side, pulling the end of the blanket over his head in a 'you're nuts, I'm taking some sleep' kind of body language message. In a while his breathing evened and she let herself think things over, feeling free to reflect upon them now that he was asleep, as if he would be able to hear her thoughts out loud if he kept awake.

She licked a lip as she thought about the way his skin felt against hers in the dream, feeling a certain amount of anger towards him for waking her up. _Whoa, whoa there, hold on... what?._

_Heck, Gilmore, what's gotten into you?_

* * *

'You know, if someone had told me that this rebellious hoodlum had the remotest chance of becoming a decent man, I would have never believed them,' Luke said while emptying a coffee machine filter into the trashcan under the sink.

Rory smiled and her eyes paused over Jess' profile while he was taking down an order. He had sneaked the writing pad out of Luke's hands almost forcefully as soon as they were over with the 'It's good to see you, man, look who's here to see you' part and he spotted the uneasy exchange of looks between Rory and Luke. He wasn't helping Luke out in the diner. He was giving them privacy.

'I would,' she said more to herself than to Luke.

Luke's eyes shifted between the young woman before him and his nephew. Once. Twice.

'Rory, what exactly is your relationship with Jess?' he asked carefully, waiting for her reaction.

She blinked, eyelashes batting over innocent blue.

'We're colleagues,' she delivered effortlessly. 'Why?'

Luke threw another glance towards the dark-haired man who was now talking animatedly to Caesar, obviously trying to get the older man to do something he refused to.

Luke sighed and nodded once.

'Whatever it is between you and him, just... be easy on him, okay?'

'Luke, we're not dating,' she let out a small dismissive laugh. Really? Did it look like that? Like they were dating or something?

_Huh, well, having sweaty dreams with a guy you've recently kissed could probably classify as 'or something'..._

Luke watched her for some time before he put the coffee filter away and wiped his hands in the cloth flipped over his shoulder. Then he laid both palms over the counter, trying to gather his thoughts.

'Back in those high school years, Jess was a mess,' he said and let out a sigh.

Rory's brows inched up.

'He was angry with the whole world and took good care to express it in each and every possible way,' Luke continued with a small smile. 'He hated this place. He was about to leave like a million times,' he shook his head. 'And he did. Once. He got flunked out of school, we had a fight and he left. But then, couple of days later, he called and Caesar told him I didn't open the diner the next day. Or any other day since he left. He came back the other day, babbling something about Wal-Mart being highly overrated, running out of money and needing the job at the diner anyway.'

Rory swallowed uncomfortably and lowered her eyes.

'Back in those times, I was bad. Pretty bad.'

For some unknown reason, she felt ashamed. She felt like she had betrayed Luke's trust in some way. And it had nothing to do with Jess. She had given him up. The way she had tried to erase her whole life until that early February turning point, she had tried to erase the only man who had ever been a father to her. Because he had been grieving and she refused to. And his grief had just been another reminder of happiness that was now far away.

'Somehow, him coming to Stars Hollow had made me pull myself back together. He came back because he knew I needed him,' Luke finished, studying her face.

Rory snapped out of her self-contemplation and looked up.

'Luke, are you giving me the 'You hurt him I kill you' speech?' she tried to chuckle.

He looked down at the counter for a second before his eyes met hers again.

'Do I need to?'

Rory stood there, considering his question for a moment.

'No.'

'Okay.'

* * *

Early March sun was setting down above snow-covered marble angels and granite gargoyles, bringing them to life into the dim light (for the creative imagination).

It was a tired, cold blue sky, but pink and orange hues stained it with hope for oncoming spring.

And it was in a place like this where the circle of life sometimes appeared in plain view. It was a fragile balance - opposites constantly transforming into each other, neither possible without tasting a glimpse of the other.

A young woman was kneeling over the white stone, glove-clad hands fumbling in her lap while she sought for the right words.

'Hey, mom.'

* * *

Jess crashed the cigarette butt against the wall behind his back and made a step forward to throw it into a trash can, when he stopped midway, his attention caught by something else.

He shouldn't be surprised, he reminded himself. He had come here _waiting_ for them, after all.

A middle-aged blonde and a similarly blonde girl in school uniform, walking. The woman was carrying the girl's backpack while the kid was jumping around through the snow, excitedly telling her mother some story over her shoulder.

Jess stood rooted to the spot, with only his eyes moving as he watched them for another fifty meters before they stopped and walked into one of the houses. He stood stiffly, trying to connect what had been to what was now. Sometimes, fitting your memories into reality could seem like a joke. Or a lie. Sometimes both.

Like losing control over the steer, car driving on its own, his thoughts were rapidly speeding in new directions. And then it was over. Once the steer was back in hands, all he could do was see where he'd gone and then go on from there.

* * *

She came back into the house, feeling dizzy. Something was happening within her, but she didn't know if it was a good something or a bad something. She just knew she felt an unexpected wave of relief wash over her, over and over, all the way back.

'Jess?' she threw the keys on the living room coffee table as her eyes searched him. 'You here?'

Well, he couldn't have driven away, she thought. The Chevy was forming a snow pile outside, and she thought there was pretty little chance that it would start up in a weather like this. But, then again, it was a miracle it started ever at all. This wreck was an antique.

Then she saw him. A silent profile, sitting in the armchair by the french windows.

_Here you are... sad boy._

She made a couple of steps and leveled the armchair.

'Hey,' she greeted gentler, quieter, as if waking him up.

He looked up.

'Hey.'

She moved to sit at the edge of the armrest and studied his face. He looked pensive. A bit down maybe. Yeah, there was this certain sour vibe in his somberness, but there it was.

She would ask him if he was okay, she decided. If everything was okay with his mom. He would answer vaguely, she knew, and she would go and make him some tea. Because that's what good friends do. They provide understanding. Friendly atmosphere. And tea. She knew he liked tea, right?

But then, instead, she was leaning down and her hands were cupping his face while her lips were kissing him. She just wanted to reassure him, she told herself. Make him feel better. See how much of her dream would turn out to be true... _Oh, God..._

He was fast to react this time. His arms encircled her hips, bringing her close so that she ended up straddling him.

He waited for her to accommodate to the feeling of his lips against hers before he took control, kissing her fully.

Her fingers were lost into his hair when he deepened the kiss, changing angle and leaning more into her. She felt like she was falling apart. She scattered onto the floor, hundreds of little pieces running in different directions, but it was a delicious feeling, a feeling of losing control, of letting go.

Their foreheads rested against one another, both of them panting.

Then she pulled away and stood up suddenly, breaking contact.

'Sorry,' she mumbled, covering her lips with her knuckles.

'About what?' he asked in a low scratchy voice and stood up slowly, unable to figure out what she meant.

'This.' She made an indefinite gesture between them.

He let a heavy breath out.

'Jeez, not again,' he shook his head and ran both hands through his hair.

'We can't,' she wrapped her arms around herself self-consciously and bit a lip. She could still taste him all over.

He made a step towards her and she backed unconsciously.

'Are you playing games, Rory?' his eyes flashed warningly and he rubbed his chin, trying to keep his cool, but his temper was already speeding. 'Something like _'Oops, I tripped over your face and I kissed you again'_ game? 'Cause I'm kinda out of it by now.'

Rory shook her head confusedly.

'We can't,' she repeated bluntly.

'Believe me, we _can,_' he laughed humorlessly and she felt her cheeks blush even more as she remembered the feeling of him pressing hard against her mere seconds ago.

'Jess...'

'_Rory._' He crossed his arms before his chest expectantly.

'I...' she swallowed hard.

'Yes?'

'I'm...'

'I'm listening,' he encouraged.

_I'm falling for you. Badly.  
_

'I'm your boss.'

Jess blinked once. Twice.

'No, you're not,' he replied simply.

'But I will be.'

He took a sharp breath in, trying to compose himself, but failing miserably.

'Goddamn it, Rory, do you really believe I'm buying this shit? How old do you think I am - nine?'

'Jess...'

'You drove with me all the way here, to Stars Hollow, playing some abstract game of chicken about your mom, putting up the whole drama queen scenario, getting me to actually believe that this, whatever it is we've got going on here, is not about filling the gaps in your fun schedule...'

'It's no...'

'Jeez, have you completely forgotten how to handle your relationships with other people, besides giving orders and keeping it strictly boss-employee? You're trying to control everything so badly, that it's getting ridiculous. You think you're so independent on your own, but you've based your whole life on a major loss and a career you're trying to fit into that loss.'

'Stop it,' she hissed.

'You're really going for that bossy socialite bitch character, aren't you? You like her so much, she looks untouchable the way she is, eh? And you think that's the right thing to be, because she fits. She fucking fits your scheme into that imaginary world you've created for yourself, simply because living in the real world scares you. But this isn't you, Rory. You know it isn't. You're so used to lying to everyone, you can't stop lying to yourself.'

'Stop it, just stop!' she sobbed, bending down to rest one hand on her knees, while trying to cover her face with the other.

For a moment he stood paralyzed, staring at her sudden breakdown. He breathed in and out, waiting for his mind to cool down.

She had suddenly crumbled, just like that. Unintentionally, he had hit all the soft places of her defense. Guess some things had been waiting to be said for a while.

'Hey,' he made a step forward so that he stood right before her and gently took hold of her sides, bringing her up to face him. 'Rory.'

She jerked her head to the side, trying to free herself from his grip, looking away, but Jess steadily gathered her in his arms, making her rest her weight against him.

'I'm sorry, okay?' he whispered in her hair, feeling her shake with another sob.

'You're not,' she protested, thumping a fist against his chest as she tried to free herself from his grip. He kept his arms closed around her, soothing her hair.

'I am,' he repeated. 'I'm not sorry for what I said, though' he explained quietly, 'because it's the truth. But I _am_ sorry it hurts you to hear it.'

She shook with another sob and let him hold her.

He kissed the top of her head and swayed her in his arms, letting her nuzzle his neck.

With another gasp she breathed him in and her lips somehow inched up towards his neck, at first just pressing into the warm skin, but then kissing, tasting the salt of her own tears. Once. Twice. Her heart sped up. And then she became painfully aware of what was happening.

_No! No, no, no, no, NO!_

He squinted as he felt her teeth over his skin. Before he had time to react, her lips locked with his in a frenzy of a kiss. She kissed him wildly, urgently, brushing and biting at the same time, conveying both anger and desire, her hands balling up the hem of his shirt. It was like she was trying to convey some misunderstood revenge. The world blazed behind his eyes and it took him a moment to get his mind to work properly.

His palms found the sides of her face and kept it steady. His eyes paused on hers before he tilted his head and started slowly kissing his way down her jaw and neck in a gentle, deliberately calculated caress, trying to pace them down. He trailed her clavicle and let a breath out against the soft skin of her neck. She shivered. His eyes shut.

Rory tried to swallow. Her skin tingled at the graze of his chin and a thousand alarms set off in her body. This wasn't happening. It was alright happening, but it shouldn't be. What was happening within_ her_ was never supposed to happen. If it ever did, however, it was supposed to be _meaningless_. She couldn't _bear_ any more meaning into her life.

_Can't you see? I can't bear you into my life..._

Her fingers slid under his shirt and dug into the skin of his back as she searched for his lower lip again. She bit deeper this time.

Jess cringed involuntarily and pulled back, his tongue tracing the bitten spot. He took a firmer hold of her shoulders and studied her face. She didn't look so angry any more. Her eyes were a deep, unsettled blue. Her chin was slightly quivering and she looked... confused.? Lost. Found.? _Trapped_.

He held her, with just enough force to show he had the upper hand, without actually trying to inflict pain. She squirmed in his arms, trying to get free. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

'Why are you trying to fight this so badly?' he breathed out and lifted his hands from her shoulders, freeing her.

She didn't move. Didn't breathe. His forehead was still lightly resting against hers. One thumb traced her jawline while the other one brushed her lips.

_Tell me to stop and I will. _

She bit her lip hard and tensed up, staring into his closed eyes. Kept her breath in for another moment before she finally relaxed, giving in. And let him make love to her.

* * *

**Review. Please.**


	8. Each Truth

_Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls_ show and characters, not mine.

Jess' words to Rory right before she goes into the Conference Hall - totally corrupted from _Smash_ (Derek to Karen), so not mine in any way.

Sherwood Anderson's '_Winesburg, Ohio'_, thoroughly and unfortunately - not mine.

Idea of Jess enjoying '_Winesburg, Ohio'_ - not mine, either - saw it in one of Green Eve's works (_'Shivery'_ it is, not mine, though highly recommended).

A/N: Thank you **LitLove**, for inspiring this and thank you, my GENEROUS, PATIENT and INCREDIBLY SUPPORTIVE beta -** Ara May **- ladies, you ROCK:):):)

* * *

**~ Part I ~**_  
_

_'In the bed the writer had a dream that was not a dream. As he grew somewhat sleepy but was still conscious, figures began to appear before his eyes.'_

She was drawing abstract eights over his pectorals while he was absentmindedly raking a hand through her hair, his eyes fixed on the book in his right hand as he read on aloud.

_'... in the beginning when the world was young there were a great many thoughts but no such thing as a truth. Man made the truths himself and each truth was a composite of a great many vague thoughts.'_

'Jess?'

_'All about in the world were the truths and they were all...'_

'Jess.'

He looked away from the book and down at her, letting the strand of hair he had been playing with fall free over her bare shoulder before picking it up between his fingers again.

Rory propped her chin up on his chest.

'What are we doing?' she asked, her eyes unsettling blue.

He studied her face, wrapping another strand round his point finger loosely before letting it free.

'We're lying in your bed,' he answered simply.

She pressed her lips together and let a breath out through her nose. Her eyes started to search.

Sometimes she had the strangest habit of looking for answers to her questions into his outlines. Her eyes would wander his features while he was reading (sleeping, writing). She sought in the dip of his neck and down his chest bone, abs, slightly prominent hipbone, long fingers holding the book, wrist, up wiry forearm, over right toned shoulder before her eyes came back to his face to find him smiling. Not smirking. Smiling. So, he had one of these, too. She watched him, her lips slightly parted, yet not producing a sound.

'You think too much,' he breathed out in her ear as he scooped her up, positioning her fully on top of him.

He leaned his chin on top of her head and read on.

'_The old man had listed hundreds of the..._' he continued, but she cut in again.

'Jess...' she mumbled against his shoulder.

'Mm.'

'Have you ever felt so happy you thought you would cry?'

'Honestly?' he smirked, despite the effort to keep a straight face, and drew his head back to look at her. She propped her chin up on his clavicle, so that she could see him. He blinked twice.

'Never,' he answered seriously.

She relaxed and pressed her cheek back against his pectoral.

'Good.'

Jess observed her for a second. She seemed genuinely relieved with this answer. Constantly alert, she kept watch that none of this went in too deep, too emotional, too serious, too good, too _anything_.

Rory Gilmore feared happiness, he had realized. She was so used to living this calculated uptight life she had built up for herself, that being happy (which was non-calculable, thus unprovable and consequently undesired) alarmed her.

She wasn't prepared for this. But neither was he, damn it. Sometimes she was so on and off, that he thought he was simply wasting his time. But then, late at night, after he finished typing some midnight inspiration on his laptop, he would lie next to her, ready to get some sleep, and she would snuggle close, so close to the point of full body contact, and lock both arms tight round his bicep, in a slightly childish manner that implied profound need. And those times would always make him come back after one of their fights, when she got bossy and he got proud, and they were both yelling and claiming territory and promising all of this was over.

_'And then the people came along,' _Jess read on.

_'Each as he appeared snatched_ _up one of the truths and some who were quite strong snatched up a_ _dozen of them._ _It was the truths that made the people grotesques. The old man_ _had quite an elaborate theory concerning the matter.' _

Rory closed her eyes and relaxed against his chest, lost in the steady timbre of his voice and the calm rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear.

The simplicity he found in their situation gave her some comfort, eased some of her guard down. She had asked him once, what they were. And he had said that they were two people spending time together. This answer had satisfied her, somehow. Tamed her worried thoughts.

'No need to label it', Jess' trademark smirk and the delicious feeling of him being around, near, _inside_ her, made it easier to suppress the fear that she was rapidly losing herself into this. Whatever it was.

He made love the same way that he wrote - by instinct. And the experience was just like that - real, overwhelming, genuinely different from anything she'd been through. And then there was that thing - pillow talk. Reading. Watching a movie. Sometimes just staring at the wall in silence. Just... being. It wasn't that she hadn't had pillow talk before. She had. With Tris, it was all friendly and natural, and they did talk, of course. Yet, with Jess, this couldn't be classified as simply sex. With him, nothing was simple.

It rose her alarm how comfortable he felt around her apartment. He would light a smoke in the middle of her living room and rest back into her beige leather armchair in only his boxers, driving her to the edge of reason. He would mock her lack of social skills because of living alone for too long. She would hit him in the chest. Hard. Not with so much venom, but because he was right. And then she would push him out onto the balcony to finish his smoke, make a face as he laughed out loud, letting his laughter roll down her shoulders. She would toss him a blanket and ignore his further comments on how he would drive _Literati_ to bankrupt once he got severe pneumonia and sent her the hospital charges. Dwarfs in _Snow White_ were just a bunch of lonely fellas who had been on their own for a long, really _long_ time. Seven years, in her case.

And then he would do that, he would bring _tea_ and place it in _her_ kitchen, next to her _coffee_ supplies. Sleeping over doesn't mean rearranging her coffee heaps, she would remark. He would ignore.

'_It was his notion_ _that the moment one of the people took one of the truths to_ _himself, called it his truth, and tried to live his life by it, he became a grotesque and the truth he embraced became...'_

She lay her palm flat over his ribs, staring at the mild contrast of porcelain white against olive, carried in small ups and downs by the easy movement of his chest.

And she was glad to hear he wasn't in too deep. Because she feared she already was.

* * *

Rory Gilmore, ex Managing Director of _Literati Ltd._, was standing two meters from the massive wooden door of _Literati_'s Conference Hall, trying to remember how to breathe.

She had been rehearsing this moment, preparing herself for the fight. She had spent the last couple of weeks, joining Jess in his sleepless hours of violent midnight typing, bringing more and more files from the office to add to the pile in the middle of her spacious living room. Working on _this_, she wasn't simply overworking, she was _hectic_.

Today was the Board equivalent of '_hearing_', her one shot to get her position back, one chance to come up with a brilliant prospect for _Literati_'s future and make the Board of Directors reconsider.

Last week she had been so excessively nervous, she went into a huge fight with Jess that she couldn't even remember the occasion for. She hadn't spoken to him since, refusing to apologize and pay attention to 'who said what' when her empire was so close, waiting for her to win back.

Plus, she was frustrated with this gnawing feeling at the back of her mind. As if she had put on a wrong pair of shoes - somehow she felt something came out wrong in every step. _Just nerves._

She shivered and looked to the side. Empty corridor. She looked to the other side then (_Checking for ambush? Jeez, Rory, get a grip_). No snipers, only the elevator.

Rory blinked.

The elevator doors slid open and there, of all people, _he_ was, reading. Before the doors slid closed again, there was the shortest moment when Jess looked up and their eyes met. Movie moment.

_ Heck. _

She swallowed uncomfortably. As much as she had been trying to ignore the fact that they were both acting childishly, she couldn't deny the pang at the pit of her stomach as she saw him, even for the shortest moment.

_Collect yourself, Gilmore_, she shook her head. _Literati's waiting_. She sighed and closed her eyes. It was no use. She couldn't move an inch. Her eyelids burnt. Her palms were sweating. And, jeez, _why_ was it so hard to breathe in here?

She felt a light touch over her shoulder then, accompanied by a hint of tobacco and aftershave as he stood behind her and his chest brushed her back. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

'Weren't you going downstairs?' she asked faintly, biting back a coy smile. Her knees felt weak. _Okay there, punk, I might have missed you the slightest._

'Weren't you going into that Conference hall?'

She could tell he was smirking, although she couldn't actually see him. _Queen Gilmore_ s_taying outside freaking out? Honestly? _

He leaned over her shoulder and she held a breath.

'Just relax. You're great in this,' his breath grazed her earlobe. She shivered.

The next moment she felt him step back and retreat.

Rory opened her eyes and breathed in. Out. In. Out.

Two minutes later, she got into the Conference Hall.

* * *

'Why did you do this?' she exhaled noisily when she finally found him in a narrow storage room, kneeling over a new stack of printing paper.

She had flown in panting, hardly catching her breath, but her tone was nowhere near belligerent. It was _excited_. A little surprised, maybe. But mostly excited.

He had a smirk over his face when he looked up.

'So, you did it.'

She grinned foolishly, nodding back.

Jess rose to his feet, smiling, too.

'Congrats, _boss_.'

Their eyes locked and for a moment she held a breath and stood perfectly still before she made a few quick steps forward and threw herself over him, making him stumble back. He had been half expecting this, though, and his arms closed around her immediately.

Her laughter rolled down his cheeks as he lifted her up in the air and she held onto his neck.

Still half smiling, her lips trailed light kisses down his forehead. Temple. Cheekbone. Outlining his chin. Her lips at the corner of his mouth where he caught them with his.

The kiss started slowly, lazily, in a way that celebrated happiness and didn't rush. Tongue, lips, only a hint of teeth. No rush. Simply getting lost.

He slowly let her slide down his torso, enjoying the friction her weight created against his skin until her feet touched the floor again.

She licked her lips, tasting him there, and smiled coyly.

He could spend hours, just watching her blush.

Next kiss started differently. Searching, insisting, anticipating. Murmuring forbidden promises and giving out secrets that would never come out properly in a bunch of words. There were secrets that were only told skin to skin.

At some point they had started breathing through each other. Breaking contact would mean suffocating. Breathing got labored, hands urging, lips seeking. Nicely ironed beige shirt was tucked out, followed by olive cotton pullover and undershirt, recently purchased heels and worn sneakers kicked to the side.

His hands slid down her sides, pulling her close, closing the gap.

She stepped up on her toes, trying to cling on to him and fit her curves against his. One hand splayed flat at the back of his neck, pulling him close. Closer. Yet not close enough.

She helped him unbutton her shirt. After a few unsteady steps shirt was shoved to the side.

They bumped into a wall. Neck, throat, collarbone. He kissed back up milky shoulder and then again - neck, throat... The room started spinning. She threw her head back.

He smirked at the way her skin got goose bumps under his breath, not realizing the way his own neck hair stood up when her nails grazed his back.

When he came back to her lips, she started unbuckling his belt, leading him backwards until his bare back pressed against the storage shelves. Staplers, paper and empty files began to fall. Both chuckled.

Skirt was kicked to the side.

For a split second they stood facing each other, wild heartbeats going wilder. Then he scooped her up and turned them around against the closest wall.

Two legs wrapped round lean waist, both figures trying to keep their high while rocking in a frenzied lullaby, could be the most fragile structure in universe. But there is that thing, if they clung on to one another, a balance could be found, and that moment of high could be prolonged.

When he looked up at her, she was biting her lip, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. He slowed down and moved a hand up from her thigh to remove a stray from her damp temple.

Her eyes opened. Lips were parted into a sloppy smile and Jess could swear there was a tear at the corner of her eye. _Have you ever felt so happy you thought you would cry?_

He started moving faster, losing his head as she shuddered against his chest, her fingers clutching at his shoulders wildly.

Right at this moment, Rory Gilmore thought she had everything. She was in the middle of a narrow storage room, hardly catching her breath, and she had never in her life felt happier.

* * *

**~ Part II ~**

In a richly decorated conference hall in Manhattan, Logan Huntzberger, ex Managing Director of _Literati_ Ltd. was holding a speech.

'As I've always told, Rory is an amazing woman, her contribution to _Literati_ is an outstanding proof of what a sophisticated and hardworking director can do for the prosperity of a corporation like _Literati_...'

Jess squinted. He felt sick.

'He's gonna propose, you know?' Mitchum Huntzberger smiled conspiratorially, moving to stand next to Jess. 'It's all set, in a couple of months,' he added, his eyes fixed on his son up on the stage.

Jess looked back at the older man, maintaining a poker face.

'So, big welcome from an ex Managing Director to Rory Gilmore, _ex_ ex Managing Director. Welcome back, Ace.'

Applause.

'No need to worry, though,' Mitchum's smile showed his teeth when he leaned towards Jess, applauding absentmindedly.

Predator, ready to snatch.

'Rory may decide to keep you around after the wedding, have some fun when Logan's busy.'

Jess held a breath.

Next thing he remembered, he was rubbing his fist, regaining balance. The pain in his knuckles was delicious.

He blinked, listening to the blood roar in his ears. Seconds passed. He didn't keep track how many.

He realized a couple of people were clutching him, holding him back while he was trying to get free. _Whoa. Do I get the slow mo, too?_

'Jess, what the hell...'

_Oh, Rory, hey. Everything's under control, babe. Just having a chat with your future father-in-law here._

She was hurrying towards him, pushing bystanders aside. She passed Mitchum by and her eyes narrowed at the guards who had somehow appeared next to Jess.

'What _the hell_ are you doing?' she hissed in a lower voice that bore a mixture of anger and concern.

He must have been smirking, judging by the growing fury in her eyes.

'You're done!' behind Rory's back Mitchum, supported by two of the guards, pointed his finger at Jess. 'You're _out_ of here!'

_Who would tell your face could turn that red, huh?_

'You're reading my mind,' Jess snarled, shrugging the hands that were clutching him off.

He made his way out, people in expensive clothing stepping back as he passed them by, watching him dumbly.

* * *

'Of all people, you had to mess up with Mitchum,' Rory fumed into his apartment, passing him by at the front door, not waiting for an invitation. She was still in her evening dress.

'Are you out of your mind?' she kicked her heels on the floor of his living room and turned back to face him abruptly.

His shirt was hanging untucked round his waist, its upper buttons undone. Under different circumstances, this could be the beginning of a great night.

Jess shrugged tiredly, leaning against the door frame.

Rory huffed in frustration.

'You must be goddamn kidding me. Do you know how hard it will be for me to make the Board keep you, Managing Director or not? Punching a _Board_ member, Jess. _Jeez_...'

He stared at her with an unreadable expression. Eyes narrowed, lips tight.

'Please tell me at least it was worth it,' she sighed and collapsed into his sofa, stretching her feet forward.

'It was,' Jess smirked bitterly.

'Good,' her lips curled an inch up. Part of her was glad the bastard got what he deserved. 'I'll think of something, okay? Next Thursday we've got Board meeting, I'll come up with something until then,' she sighed, massaging her temples.

'Don't.'

'Yeah, sure. I'll just leave it to chance then, why not?' she shook her head sarcastically. 'This would go really well, right? Here is this employee from Ant floor, he's quite the brain, like most people who work here, by the way, and he punched a Board member, dislocating his jaw an inch in the right direction, to the right, I mean, he dislocated Mitchum's jaw _to the right_. So, what do you say, do we keep him in his current position or do we...'

'I quit, Rory,' he cut in evenly, interrupting her ramble.

'Uh?'

'I quit,' he repeated quietly.

'No you don't.'

He lifted an eyebrow.

Rory stared at him, trying to collect herself, but feeling more and more panicked.

'Look,' she started hastily, 'I know things are messy right now, but I can get you out of this. Hell, I can even make them promise you a lifelong contract.'

He shook his head and the resolve she read over his face scared her.

'I'm not coming back, Rory.'

'But wha... why?'

He shrugged.

'Decided it's time to move on.'

'Move on? Move on to what?'

'I got a job offer,' he said calmly.

The room shrunk in.

'But I...' she trailed off, lost for words. 'I need to see you around,' she whispered, the look in her eyes insisting, trying to go past his resolve.

He looked sad. _If it makes you sad, why do you wanna leave?_

'You still can.'

'But...'

'But we won't be colleagues,' he finished for her.

So, that was it. So far with 'no need to label it'. If he left _Literati_, this couldn't pass as hanging around with a colleague anymore.

His jaw tensed when he met a stubborn glint in her eyes. He placated a stoically indifferent expression on his face.

'Matt and Chris are opening a small publishing house. They want me to join them. In Philadelphia.'

'What are you asking me, Jess?'

'You have to make up your mind, Rory,' he sighed and his eyes were the deepest shade of brown. 'I have to know if I have a reason to stay.'

Pulling. They were always pulling. Tristan, Jess, they were only pulling away to make her fetch. Why couldn't things just stay the way they were? Why couldn't he just stay in _Literati_ and go on like this?

Because it _can't_ go on like this, a voice in her head said, because sooner or later, you have to choose.

With or without. He was right. She had to make up her mind.

* * *

**~ Part III ~**

He let his eyes undress the two girls sitting on the high stools on the other side of the counter, slowly peeling their party dresses off their shoulders, enjoying the view.

The redhead handed him her empty glass and leaned forward over her elbows, in a way that surely granted him a good view of all that had been barely concealed by the lowcut V of the dress. He threw a glance down and when he looked back up, his eyes flashed, considerably darker.

Rory felt the tight grip inside her chest knot up. She knew exactly what was on the other side of this look. He was imagining them, tangled up. But he was imagining him and the _redhead_.

Her mouth felt sticky. She took one of the glasses from the small table to her right and drank, letting the liquid burn her tongue.

Jess put another refilled glass before the Emma Stone wannabe. She made him a sign to lean closer and whispered something in his ear, making him smirk. His eyes met Rory's and he held her gaze as he whispered something back, still leaning over the woman's shoulder. The redhead turned to look aside to the staircase that most probably led to his room. A fire ball in Rory's chest started spreading a severe flush over her cheeks, and she knew it wasn't the alcohol.

_Seriously? Great show, Jess. Cheap but great, all by the book._

She knew, though, it wasn't _just_ a show. Given the chance, he would have the redhead upstairs, in his room. He would climb her on his waist and make her pant against the inside of his bedroom door, and then he would have her again over his messy sheets, hoping she would at least be any good to grant him release.

Rory bit her lip. It hurt physically to imagine him with another woman, the pain bitter with the fact that she had made things this way by her own will.

Suddenly he was out of sight and she searched the room, trying to catch sight of his messy hair, his smirk, a shrugging shoulder somewhere. Anywhere. She felt a sudden need to see him smirk. Or shrug. Or both.

Had he gone upstairs with the redhead? Thank God, no. The chick was still there, looking around the room, probably checking out the alternatives. Rory sighed.

The truth was she had messed up. She had let him go. She had watched him gather his stuff from his cubicle. She had signed his resignation file. Damn, she had wished him '_Good luck in Philadelphia_'.

She had missed every chance to make this seem less like separation and more like a fight between lovers. They had had enough of these, had they not? Yet, this one was different. She had to make up her mind. And she thought she had. But then, he wasn't around and all she could think about was how wrong it felt. She knew that, if she came to look for him, all the way to Philadelphia, their makeup would mean more than resuming things as they were. It would mean they would be together. Not simply as lovers. And she didn't have this in her plans.

Had he left his own birthday party? Wouldn't be a shocker. And yet...

She went across the room and out through the narrow corridor, considering leaving his house and his life, when she saw the open door to the storage room.

For a moment her eyes paused on his back, adjusting to the dim light and to seeing him without a full room of buzzing people around. He was kneeling next to one of the shelves, taking bottles out. She stood silent and stared at his outlines, trying to memorize them, comparing them to the ones she had imprinted in her mind.

He seemed to sense her presence as his shoulders stiffened and he sucked a breath in before he rose and turned towards her.

Rory's fingers closed tighter round the neck of her glass.

'What do you want, Rory?'

Agitation. Impatience. Weariness. He was tired of her ins and outs. God, she was, too.

'I wanna talk to you,' she said in a choked voice, her throat tight.

'Didn't we already go through this part? I don't have anything to say to you.'

He had told her earlier, after recovering from the initial shock as he found her in his living room along with the other guests.

_Hey._ _Can we talk? _

_I don't have anything to say to you, Rory.  
_

He had repeated that in his head over a million times. He had nothing left to say. It came out pretty naturally. What else was there to be said?

'I miss the smell of cigarettes in my living room,' Rory said, avoiding his eyes.

'I'm sure you do,' he sighed and bent down to take two bottles of _Jack_'s.

'I didn't want you smoking in the apartment, so that the smell wouldn't grow on me,' she continued quietly.

'I miss the sound of your typing. Late at night, I need it to fall asleep.'

He was standing before her, holding the two bottles, his eyes unwavering. Rory licked a lip.

'I searched for your tea. I protested when you started bringing all that tea into a Gilmore kitchen, but I looked for it yesterday and there wasn't any and I panicked.'

He watched her bluntly for a moment before giving a short nod.

'I know.'

'You do?'

He huffed frustratedly.

'Of course I do, why do you think I smoked in your living room? Why would I bring tea when I could well survive on your surpassingly strong coffee anyway? I was trying to leave a mark.'

He stepped aside, trying to go past her. She moved to block his way.

'Well, you did.'

'Good to know.'

Their eyes locked into a silent battle.

'I tried to sleep with a guy,' Rory breathed out.

Jess blinked, grabbed the glass out of her hand and downed it. Then shoved it back into her hands and went past her on his way out.

'I couldn't,' her voice came out almost desperate.

Jess stopped in his track, turning back slowly.

'Do you realize how selfish all this act you're putting now is?' he huffed and bent down to leave the bottles on the floor with a sharp clink.

'You show up here, uninvited,' he started, his voice threateningly low. 'Here, _in Philly_, on my birthday. You follow me around, talking about how much you missed me. You even decide to update me on your recent sex life, which is really just _groovy_, by the way. And all of this, just to do what, exactly?' he threw both hands up in the air, 'Get back where we left?'

She couldn't find her voice to answer. He didn't wait for her to.

'We've been through this, Rory,' he shook his head angrily. 'We've been halfway out of it the moment it started, I'm not going in again, we're not flipping between your bedroom and the office, waiting for the corporative giant whose proposal you'll accept.'

Rory blinked.

'Please tell me that's not you being jealous of Logan.'

'Of course it's not,' Jess jerked his head to the side dismissively. Then he looked directly back at her and his jaw tensed.

'It's about sex. It's not enough to fuck, Rory. It simply isn't.'

'We didn't _fuck_.'

'You're goddamn right. We didn't. You did.'

Her throat felt tight.

'I signed a huge contract yesterday.'

'Oh, _great_,' he huffed through gritted teeth. Now they were discussing her work life.

'I felt nothing. All I could think about was how pointless it all is. Suddenly, all I've got is not enough. Without you, nothing's gonna be enough.'

He shook his head and bent down to take the bottles from the floor.

'I need you, Jess. It terrifies me how much.'

He remained crouching by the bottles for a moment and then turned to face her. She was shaking.

He let a sharp breath out, left the bottles where they were and went out of the room quickly. Once he was out, he rubbed a hand across his jaw. _I need you, Jess. It terrifies me how much_, her words ricocheted in his head.

Rory's eyes began to water rapidly and her sight was blurred when she recognized his outlines mere seconds later as he came back into the room and stopped right before her, his breathing ragged.

'I can't even walk out on you properly,' he said bitterly. 'Fuck.'

He placed his arms on both her sides and when she looked up, blue was stained with hope. He stared at her bluntly before he pulled her closer. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, shaking even harder.

* * *

Thanks for reading:) Reviews are welcome and highly appreciated:)


	9. Two and Two Always Makes a Five

Disclaimer: The title of this chapter belongs to _Radiohead_. The characters belong to the show. I'm poor, etc.

_A/N: Thank you, LitLove and my wonderful and supportive beta Ara May for being the reason this story exists. Thank you, Guest, for your lovely review, it warmed my heart! :)_

* * *

'Stace?'

'Rory. I... There's been... Someone broke into my apartment, okay? The police are here and I... Hell, I'm sorry I'm calling this late, but I just had to talk to someone and your name like popped out of the phone and I...'

'Stace, breathe.'

'Breathing.'

'Stace...'

'Mm.'

'It's gonna be fine, okay?'

'Okay.'

'Just stay there till I come?'

'Yeah. Thanks, Ror.'

...

'I'm sorry I made you come, it was kind of a spur of the moment melodramatic attack,' Stacy wiped her nose with a Jack Skellington hankie and sighed, her look trailing the back of a leaving police car.

They were sitting on the front steps of Stacy's building. It was a half after midnight, at best. Maybe later (earlier?).

Rory gave her friend a look and let out a faint smile.

'Of course you would call. C'mon,' she stood up and offered Stacy her hand, 'we're going my place.'

* * *

Jess leaned an elbow above his head against the tastefully decorated metal door frame and waited.

He had rung twice.

He imagined her approaching the door, a pair of light blue sheep pajamas and fluffy slippers on, the ones he knew she secretly wore at home when he wasn't around. Her hair would be flying in a halo around her head, hosting static electricity after fighting her way into her pajama top in the dark. He imagined her rubbing her eyes and suppressing a yawn as she fumbled for her keys on the shelf beside the door.

He had rung twice. _Who is it? The postman. Shit._

It was really late... early, _whatever_. _Just leave. Come another time. You aren't even supposed to be here.  
_

That was right. He was supposed to be back in Philly, meeting his new editor to be. _Shit._

He had rung twice. No one answered yet. Maybe, some people took the sleeping at night thing seriously, for a change.

The door opened.

'Stacy?'

'Jess.'

* * *

In a daze, Rory felt the bed sink and a warm hand rest on her belly. Hints of tobacco, cologne and something indiscernible yet too familiar registered at the back of her mind. She smiled in her sleep and snuggled closer.

When she opened her eyes in the morning, they met a pair of brown.

He was resting on his elbow. Awake. Watching. He had his tee and pants still on and that made him look a bit awkward, an urban contrast to her light Egyptian cotton sheets. It would be easy to believe he had just arrived, or he was just about to leave. Lingering. But she had felt his presence. He had spent the night there, wrapped around her.

'Hey.' His voice was low, edged with reluctance. 'Stacy let me in. Mentioned something about burglary. It was late, though. Early.'

Her eyebrows furrowed a little above sleepy blue, but there was a smile already making its way up the corners of her mouth. She liked his rambling. Wasn't quite aware he was capable of proper ramble until now.

Jess watched her intently, trying to gauge her reaction.

_Initial shock of finding a guy who's supposed to be eighty miles away in your bed first thing in the morning - checked._

She registered the unspoken question. Her eyes paused on his two-day stubble and the words somehow came out on their own.

'I missed you.'

His features relaxed visibly. He leaned in and touched his nose to her pulse spot, then pressed his lips to the soft skin.

She almost giggled. He almost said the words back.

* * *

'Could you stop doing this?'

'No.'

Jess popped another peanut into his mouth and rested back in the sofa, watching her blatantly.

Rory let a breath out through her nose. Just two hours ago they were perfectly alright, lying in her bed, talking, kissing, catching up for the time apart. A long distance relationship wasn't something she was sure she was good at. Wake-up surprises in bed were all right, but could they make up for all the other surprises that came along with him?

Rory threw him another glance. He held it for a while before blinking innocently. Come on, shoot your guns, he was challenging her.

This wasn't gonna be easy. Nothing was ever easy when it came to him.

Or maybe it was. _Way_ too easy. They could effortlessly grow from on to off, took less than a few seconds, and it was some unknown logic that pulled their strings. It was that kind of twisted, _illogical_ logic, the one you could not follow, could not predict, could not master and definitely not plan. Rory Gilmore liked to plan. If there was a _Master Planner Of The Year_ contest, she would've undoubtedly won it. It was what she did. She planned. Scheduled. She couldn't schedule _him_. And that was alright, at times. It gave her a certain kick, she had to admit. But she couldn't schedule _them_, either, and it gnawed on her.

'You told me you'd meet him,' she repeated her words from five minutes ago.

Okay, how had they switched from her bedroom to her court room (living room, whatever)... Right. Andrew Miller, the editor. Jess had said he would meet him. (After weeks of blackmailing on her side, he had given in, agreeing to at least meet the guy.)

'Nope,' Jess replied in a tone that implied he found the conversation somewhat entertaining. '_You_ said I should meet him.'

'Oh, don't try this on me,' she huffed and went round her perfectly white kitchen counter to stand before him, arms crossed. He popped another peanut into his mouth.

She knew better than that. He couldn't bullshit her to and fro, she wouldn't lose her nerve just because he liked pushing her buttons.

'You said you _met_.'

The last words were said with certain grudge and the full stop at the end almost clinked in her teeth. He had said they had met. Period. He had lied. He had lied _to her_. She hated it.

'Did I.' He blinked and his blatant look stung. He found nothing disturbing in that. He had lied to her, right in the eye, and he was okay with it.

_'Did you meet Andrew? What did he say?'_

_Excited. She was so damn excited about this. Him. She was excited about him. Jess averted his look. _

_'Nothing much.'_

_'He must've said something. Come on, Jess, can't you see I'm dying here? Here. Dead.'_

_She lay back on her bed, crossing her arms over sheep pajamas covered chest, and closed her eyes. Jess breathed through his nose, his features sharpening for just a brief moment._

_'Rory.'_

_She opened one eye suspiciously._

_'I'm dead, remember?' she whispered._

_ Jess rolled his eyes._

_'He would think about it. Wouldn't hold my breath.'_

_'You're insane,' she jumped off the bed.  
_

_Jesus. __She was beaming._ So overwhelmed with optimism. A schoolgirl taking on a new project. He couldn't be her project, did she know that? He was going to protest, but then her lips were at the corner of his mouth.  


_'Your book is worth much more credit than you're willing to give it. And so are you.'_

_He wanted her to stop this. For some reason, her blind faith in him made him sad. Before he even knew it, he would go running around trying to prove her right, and it would make them both liars, then. Now they were simply both lying to her. Started he beating himself in the chest, he would be lying to himself, as well. And this he wasn't sure he knew how to handle. Fuck._

_ He kissed back faster, harder, trying to stop them both from further lying.  
_

You said you met.

Did I.

He thought she would burst any second now. He took sick pleasure into her burstouts, seeing them as some twisted proof that she cared.

He thought she would start yelling any second now. So did she.

She thought she would ask him what the hell, what's wrong with him, why did he lie to her, why didn't he meet the damn guy she had spent days trying to get through to, why can't he for once do what he's told and follow the damn plan...

But instead of saying all this, she let a breath out. Her face fell. And maybe his did, too. Yeah, just a little, but it did.

'I hate this,' she said quietly, giving up. (_That was right. She had to give up on him at some point, didn't she?_)

'I hate that you would lie to me and you don't even care.'

He watched her bluntly, thinking this was a lie, as well. (_That he didn't care. It was another lie he wanted them both to believe._)

'Think what you do,' he shrugged and stood up.

'You're an idiot,' she said to his back.

'Excuse me?' he turned on his heel.

There, she thought. Some emotion that was true. Pride. He was always true to his pride. So insanely proud. And so insanely self-doubting, she came to know with time.

'You're wasting your time,' she took a step closer, pushing her chances. 'You don't think you're good enough and you find excuses to not put yourself out there and take what you must.'

'Nice analysis, doc.'

_Just great. Abstract optimism for the lost soul. Could this get any better?_

Rory studied his posture. He was hiding behind his nonchalant demeanor, using physical comfort as a trench where he would pack his defenses and get ready to shoot.

Her brows furrowed.

_Why are you living with this crazy idea that you're screwed - screwed by default, screwed beyond fixing?_

'It won't go away, Jess,' she sighed and tucked a strand behind her ear.

'You won't know if you keep quitting,' she took another tiny step closer.

She could feel him slipping away. There was this thing about him, behind each door opened, there stood a hundred doors closed. It was just the way he worked.

'And not knowing is much worse than failing.'

'Huh, here come the pompons.'

'No pompons. Just me saying you could do more.'

She tried to sound calm, wise. Guess she didn't, yet she wanted him to know that this - this was true. She believed it to be true.

_No, Rory. **You** could do more. **You** could do much more than waking up next to a fiery toddler-writer who's best at smoking and writing his eyes off when he can't find anything better to do with himself. Go find a new project, why won't you?_

He tended to swear, he tended to dismiss important calls and show unfashionably late for a meeting, his words generally tended to leave a sore mark behind when he delivered a snappy reply, and he wasn't generally a guy who fell in love. All of this, when he did, it easily got uncontrollable. Not quite the task for a former small town princess, even if she had mustered up enough courage to show tough in New York publishing business.

She studied his half-smirk, knowing it was just a last harbor for his anger before he started pouring it out onto the world, on her. Especially on her. It was unnerving to know how much reserve would stream behind his passion. As much as he would appeal to her with his spontaneity, he would push back with his devil-may-care attitude. They were dancing between brazen lie and brutal honesty and this was a rope dance with a blindfold.

They had fallen into a weird silence, not entirely uneasy though.

'Do you know what I first thought when I read your book?' she asked suddenly. He looked up, but she didn't wait for his answer. 'I thought it was the rawest, truest thing I had read through.'

'Then,' she continued, 'I learned it was basically a book about my mom...'

He made a grimace but she didn't leave him a chance to interrupt.

'... and I thought, what the hell, that's why it got to me,' she shook her head thoughtfully and her eyes glittered.

Jess watched her, the thought that she looked kind of beautiful right now crossing his mind absently.

'Then I read '_The Subsect_' and...' she made an indefinite gesture in the air '... it was all still there, all that I fell in love with in the first book was still there, and it was still the best damn writing I had come across.'

Jess' mouth felt dry. Right now, he wanted to yell. No. He didn't. He wanted her to. He wanted to have her right there, splay her over her neat leather sofa, raw and needy, mess her nicely combed hair up with his fingers and be all over her, make her scream, lose her mind, fight with him for her own breath, tell him that he, _he_ is the best damn thing she has come across. He imagined writing a third book. A couple of short stories, maybe. Something good. Something he would work his ass off for. He imagined typing for days, just so that he could see that look on her face again. How proud she was. How proud she thought she was with him.

He swallowed with difficulty, snapping out of the reverie.

He was never supposed to be her hero. He was supposed to be her charity case, her bittersweet disappointment.

'Damn,' he shook his head, his half smirk almost gone. 'You're trying to make this about yourself and it's so not...' he licked a lip, a sudden fervor making its way up his throat.

'So not what, Jess?'

He shot her a glare.

'It's so not what?' she insisted, not giving up.

'Asked for,' he said through clenched teeth.

Their eyes locked for a long moment before he gave a nod to no one and left the room, forbidding himself to feel guilty for leaving her just because she thought he was someone great. He wasn't.

He didn't wait to hear her say she was sorry. It wasn't that he couldn't bear her excuse for prying into his personal space. He would fume and bark, but in all honesty, he could get accustomed to someone caring. But he couldn't handle her excuse for believing in him. Saying she was sorry. Sorry because he wasn't that great guy she saw him as. And as selfish as he was, he wanted to make sure he'd left before she had found that out herself.

* * *

It was a bitter taste that stained his mouth when he put the bottle down. The place was filthy and crowded. He needed a smoke, and then another drink. Not beer, though. Beer cooled his mind, and tonight, he wanted it clouded. Right now, he wanted to get out of his head. He stepped out of the trashy bar and took a cigarette pack out out of his jeans pocket.

What am I, she had asked once, in one of their most intimate moments. Huh? What am I to you? He had felt tempted to tease her, say something silly about her being a power-hungry ex boss who liked to take advantage of former employees, but the warm trusting glitter in her eyes had stopped him. You're everything I feared you'd be, he had said instead. Good, she had licked her lip, then we're on the same page here.

Nicotine grazed down his lungs, hot and unsatisfying. The evening was muggy and his palms felt sticky as he put the smoke out against a rusty drain pipe on a backstreet. He had started walking to nowhere in particular, led by the mere need to do something with his arms and feet.

He should've been back in Philly ten times by now, but something stopped him from taking the bus at the station and led him into a cheap side of the road bar. He was a pathetic joke of a man, he thought, coming into someone's bedroom in the dead of night, then strolling New York's backstreets aimlessly, trying to suppress the growing sense of guilt that had come to life shortly after he had left her apartment.

What am I. What am I to you?

* * *

'Stacy.'

'Jess.'

'Another deja vu, eh? Is... is Rory here?'

'Come on in.'

...

'You know, when my brother called to tell me dad got a heart attack, two years ago, it was late afternoon. We were in the office, getting ready to leave. She was the first to react. She didn't ask questions, did not hesitate, just grabbed my coat and took me by the elbow. She drove all the way to Richmond at top speed, and you would never think a woman like her would speed like this - I'm not exaggerating here, she was Hamilton and I was Nicole.'

Jess quirked an eyebrow.

'Wait, you're from Richmond?'

Stacy gave him a dirty look. He smirked and stood up to leave.

'I should get going. Thanks for the tea, though.'

'Sure.'

They stood at the door.

'I'll tell her you came by,' Stacy offered him a helpful smile.

He gave her a slightly awkward nod, not really having anything to say. He needed to go back to Philly and get some sleep. The last forty-eight hours had taken the better of his judgement.

'Jess?'

'Huh?'

He pressed the elevator call button and turned back.

'That book you forgot.' She handled him the book. _The Kite Runner_. The made-up excuse they both knew he only delivered to justify his comeback.

She wasn't there, though. Rory was out and Stacy couldn't be of any more help but to offer him tea.

'Yeah. Thanks, Stace.'

* * *

Truncheon was quiet. Matt and Chris were probably asleep and there were those few hours in the dead of night when the place was really quiet.

Jess threw his jacket over the sofa and kicked his sneakers off on the way to his bedroom. He was done. Spent. Denicotinized. His ears were still buzzing from the bus ride, his head dizzy with lack of sleep. Hell, he needed sleep.

He stopped at the door and blinked apprehensively. Again, how much did he have tonight? Couple of beers, not nearly enough to give him a kick.

Rory opened her eyes as she felt the shift in the mattress. She turned to face him. They lay for a while, simply watching each other in the darkness, searching each other's reaction.

So that's why she wasn't in her apartment tonight. She had come here, waiting for him to come back. In his bed. While he was waiting for her in her living room.

_She sold her hair, he sold his watch. Cosmic irony._

His eyes traced her outlines. She was lying on her side, one palm under her ear, the other curled up into a self-conscious fist beside her thigh. She was lying motionlessly but he could tell it cost her muscle effort. She was breathing in small ups and downs, holding her breath in wait for his reaction.

Something twisted in his stomach. He had discovered that her fragility could do this, cause him to ache physically.

He reached out for her and drew her towards himself, placing her between his feet, putting them on each of her sides, securing her.

She deflated. Air left her lungs in a quick wave and he could feel the tension dissipate. She brought both arms up round his torso and pressed her cheek to his chest.

Her hair smelled like chocolate cookies and coffee. He closed his eyes while a tiny voice whispered _'Better. She can do so much better than you,' _at the back of his mind. Yet another one, much quieter, said '_We're on the same page here._' He was probably going crazy, because he was starting to get used to hearing both.


End file.
